


A Christmas Carol

by iamirondad



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fix-It, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28115868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamirondad/pseuds/iamirondad
Summary: On Christmas Eve night, Tony is lost in his own head, still struggling to deal with Peter’s death.A message is sent to him through his father, Howard Stark, and their ex-business partner, Obadiah Stane - they warn him that three spirits will visit him before sunrise.The ghosts take Tony on a journey through the past, present, and future.
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Tony Stark, Maria Stark & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 42
Kudos: 102





	1. Welcome December With Tireless Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Infinity War/Endgame Fix-It Fic :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A grieving Tony Stark is struggling to keep himself together, which leaves his loved ones in turmoil, and he worries about how his frantic behavior will affect Morgan.
> 
> Tony's father, Howard Stark, and their ex-business partner, Obadiah Stane, arrive from beyond the grave with a message, informing him that he will be visited, by three spirits, before sunrise.

Morgan was starting to ask questions.

She was like any other curious three-year-old; she could talk, for hours on end.

Tony could handle, the small trivial asks, and he’d willingly answer them, all day, every day until she was satisfied with his answers.

The questions that he couldn’t bear, to even hear, were those about Peter.

It was ironically, it was his own fault that she knew about the kid.

Raising his daughter, on stories about Spider-Man and Peter Parker, instead of princesses and comic book superheroes, was destined to backfire.

His daughter knew that Peter was real, she’d seen pictures and videos.

The one thing she didn’t have, was him.

She’d never have him, and in the most messed up way, that was the _end_ of Peter’s story.

He was a memory and Morgan’s favorite bedtime story.

All those fairy tales about Spider-Man saving the day, Tony twisted the truth, gave Peter a happy ending every time, because the reality, was something, he couldn’t handle.

Peter wasn’t only a story to Morgan, he was her imaginary friend. Tony couldn’t tell, if the flutter, of his heart, whenever she’d addressed thin air with the cutest exclaim of _‘Petey_ ,’ was a flutter, of dread, or happiness. In the end, remembering Peter was the only thing they could do, and Morgan seemed to have that interest, at heart.

It wasn’t her fault, that her father, wasn’t there yet.

Grieving Peter turned out to be a long painful process, and he wasn’t even over the first few hurdles.

Christmas wasn’t the same, and that went, for everyone, who celebrated.

Half the planet gone, left behind a lot of lonely homes and families.

Tony considered himself, one of the lucky ones, to have his wife and his daughter, safely held under one roof.

When other people, were completely and utterly alone.

Christmas was a time for love, and that didn’t waver. Communities grew closer, neighbors learned each other's names and opened their doors. People were united, in their loss, and it was one of the only things, to come out of Thanos’ Victory, that Tony didn’t despise.

It was Christmas Eve night, and Tony was getting around to wrapping the last of Morgan’s presents.

“Ugh,” He pressed a hand against his lower back, cursing his younger years and his improper posture, “Friday, remind me to build a robot that can do all this wrapping for me?”

“ _Sorry, Boss…”_ Friday replied, “ _But five years ago, you told me, to never let you do that_.”

“Oh, yeah…” Tony hummed, laying down a final strip of tape, “Why was that again?”

_“You said it would steal your festive joy.”_

Tony rolled his eyes, “Great.”

Friday’s tone turned softer, “ _And DUM-E broke the vase you bought for May_.”

Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile, “I remember,” He ducked his chin and shook his head, “I had to leave Peter in charge while I went out and bought a new one. The kid told me, to never leave present wrapping until Christmas Eve, I guess I still haven’t learned that lesson.”

He jumped up, onto his feet and placed Morgan’s last present, on the small pile that needed to be taken downstairs, he stretched his arms, over his head, with a yawn.

Out of the corner of his eye, tucked up, on the corner of his desk, was a wrapped present. A _Star Wars_ Lego Set, that he couldn’t stop himself from buying, despite knowing that Peter would never receive it.

He grabbed it, with a shaking hand, and strode out of his office, across the corridor.

He quietly opened Peter’s bedroom door but didn’t dare turn on the lights.

He let the moonlight, coming from the window, guide his path.

He placed the gift, besides the pile, of Peter’s other gifts that were destined to remain unopened.

He straightened his back and strode through the entranceway, “Happy Holidays, Kid,” He muttered, under his breath, as he clicked the door shut.

Tony scrunched his nose, with a sniffle.

When it came to missing Peter, December was the toughest month of the year.

He crept down the stairs, as quietly as he could.

Pepper was fast asleep, on the couch, an empty mug in her hands.

Tony reached over, gently pulling it from her grasp, and placing it on the coffee table, he draped a blanket over her and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

He stepped aside, darting his eyes between Pepper and the front door.

He knew the decision, looming over his head, would worry his family, but his mind was made up. He turned off the Christmas tree lights, and scribbled a note, for Pepper, to explain where he was heading.

He grabbed his coat and hopped into one of his cars, heading out into the city.

He parked, in his spot, outside Peter and May’s apartment building.

It was his darkest secret, yet everybody knew about it.

He’d bought their apartment, shortly after they died, because he refused, to let them go. His family had tried, to persuade him to pack up and pass it on, to somebody who needed it, but he couldn’t, despite trying numerous times.

Walking up and getting to the elevator, never got easier, knowing that all he had to greet him was an empty apartment, full of possessions that would never replace the people who left them behind.

He unlocked the door, strode inside, and flipped on the lights.

He pulled off his coat, laying it on the back of the couch, as he circled into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.

He leaned on the kitchen surface as he took in his surroundings, proof that May and Peter once existed.

The Menorah sat on the windowsill, untouched.

Peter came from a Jewish background, on his mother's side, he grew up, respecting that heritage, and following traditions, even after losing his parents.

Tony enjoyed being taught about Hanukkah, and every other celebration, he adored how passionate Peter was, whenever he spoke about them.

Being raised by his dad, and later, May and Ben, Peter also celebrated Christmas as a secular holiday.

Tony could imagine, a perfect world, where Peter would be able to teach Morgan the same lessons he’d taught Tony.

He shook it off, turning away, to face the wall.

He clocked the storage boxes, that he’d stacked by the kitchen window, but he couldn’t bring himself to use them.

It wasn’t just an apartment, it was Peter and May’s home; Tony understood that it was selfish, but in his eyes, nobody else deserved to call it that.

He perched on the couch, holding his head in his hands, “Eh,” He groaned, clenching his fists by his sides, “You can’t keep doing this,” He told himself, “You can’t—”

He ended his plea when the front door opened, and Happy strode in, wearing the ‘ _really, you’re gonna do this_ now’ look, but with a slight tinge, of concern.

“Hey,” Tony greeted, knowing that Happy, had been sent to find him.

Happy remained silent, as he sat in the armchair, with a heavy sigh, “You okay?”

Tony nodded, relaxing his hands, by crossing his arms, over his chest.

“No, you’re not,” Happy leaned forward, “I understand.”

“Hap—”

“ _We_ understand,” Happy said slowly, “This is something, that you need to do, and letting go isn’t easy…”

Tony sucked in a sharp breath, trying to remain composed.

“Especially when you’re letting go, of someone like Peter…” Happy fidgeted, pulling at a loose thread off the side of the chair, “I struggle too, I miss him—”

Tony chewed his lower lip, “This is horrible,” He admitted, “I can’t bring them back, and I—”

“A part of you thought that you could,” Happy answered, “I know.”

“If I pack this all up, what do I do?” Tony asked, ignoring Happy’s true claim, “Move on?”

“In whatever way, you can,” Happy comforted, “I know that you need to be ready, before jumping into something, you might not be able to take back.”

Tony looked to the windows, to see snow falling, “I’m ruining everything, aren’t I?”

“No,” Happy shook his head, “But I think we’d all, feel a little better if you were home tonight.”

“I’ve gotta do a few things first,” Tony explained, “Alone.”

Happy tapped his foot, against the floor as he turned his face away, “Okay.”

Tony stepped up, “I’ll be home, before Morgan’s awake, I promise.”

“I know,” He spun around, burying his hands in his pockets, “You remember May’s story, about the Christmas before we met them?”

Tony raised an eyebrow, “The soup kitchen?”

“Yeah,” Happy smiled proudly, “Three weeks, after they lost Ben, they still helped out, on Christmas Eve, because that’s who they were. They were givers, they helped people out, every chance they got. It isn’t fair, that they’re gone, but that will never take away, who they were.”

Tony’s eyes found the boxes, momentarily but he turned, facing his friend, once more.

Happy gestured to the door, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“See you.”

Happy left, without another word.

Tony slouched against the couch, Happy’s words stuck inside his head.

The apartment was empty and full of ghosts.

He rubbed his hands over his eyes, and looked to the clock, on the wall.

It was almost midnight.

Happy was right.

Peter and May were givers; Tony being closed off and selfish, was letting Peter down.

Tony refused to fail those he loved, especially when Morgan never understood why he was quiet and distant, at times.

No matter how much it hurt, he loved Peter enough, to let him go.

He shot up, grabbing the first box.

He scooped up cushions and bedding, to place into the boxes.

 _Start small, and then the bigger stuff won’t be as hard_ , he thought.

He made a pot of coffee, and stood, trying to work out what he could tackle next.

He switched on the television and perched on the arm of the couch.

A shiver shot up his spine as a loud clang, like metal rubbing against metal, echoed from behind him.

He reached forward, for the remote, muting the television, as he spun his head.

He was met, by silence.

“Uh…” He rubbed his forehead, he was definitely overdoing it, “I need to go.”

He pressed the side of his watch, but it refused to flicker on.

He dug his hand, in his pocket, taking out his phone, “Fri—”

It was also dead.

“What—”

It didn’t make sense, his backups had backups, and they had backups, it was impossible for them not to work.

An unnerving sensation pressed against his chest, he reached up a hand, pulling the collar of his shirt, in desperation.

The lights and television shut off, leaving him nothing, but the moonlight.

The clanging started again.

Tony sucked in a panicked breath, as he turned back, realizing that the sound, was coming from Peter’s bedroom.

He had nothing, with him. 

_No Friday. No suit. No backup._

With caution, he stepped over and pushed the door open, he peered his head around. Nothing seemed out of place, and the window was closed, so it wasn’t the wind.

He locked his eyes, onto the 'Luke Skywalker' poster, that was stuck on the furthest wall.

He jerked back, with a yell, as the image contorted, into a horrifying image, of his father, screaming, with a vicious laugh.

Tony slammed the door shut as his chest rose and fell, with rapid infrequent breaths.

He clasped his trembling hands and he pinched the back of his hand.

Nothing changed. 

Thumping footsteps, and the spine-chilling sound, of chains dragging across the laminate floor, silenced him.

Tony pressed his back against the wall.

When the sources of the sound, circled the corner, revealing themselves, he was rendered speechless.

The transparent forms, of Howard Stark and Obadiah Stane, bound together, in chains, flew towards him.

“What—” Tony stammered, struggling through each breath, “No—”

“What a mess,” Obadiah howled, “A stuttering pathetic mess…” He snapped his head, looking to Howard, “You must be so proud.”

“I knew he was a lost cause, a long time ago,” Howard replied, “He’s never even come close.”

“Not gonna ask?” Obadiah shot a stern look in Tony’s direction, “We’ve spent the years since we died, wandering the Earth, in these heavy chains.”

“Punishment for our sins,” Howard cackled, “I didn’t know, that putting my blood, sweat, and tears, into my company, was a sin.”

“No, Howie!” Obadiah exclaimed, “Your sin was raising an incompetent son!”

“You’ve got me there, Obie.”

Tony looked aside, noticing the chains were linked to a forge of cashboxes and padlocks.

“I am ashamed of you, Tony,” Howard began, “Shutting down the weapons manufacturing, handing the company over to a woman.”

Tony’s disbelief was overwhelmed by a rush of anger, “That—”

“A secretary, Howard,” Obadiah barked, “Not just a woman, but one with zero knowledge.”

Tony raised his voice, “Pepper is the best thing that ever happened—”

Obadiah sang, “Oh, he speaks.”

“And he ruined everything,” Howard shook his head, “Despite, trying your best, to anger me, Tony, here you are, alone, on Christmas Eve.” He smirked, “Drowning in your sorrows, not caring about others.”

Obadiah mocked, “Like father, like son.”

“No,” Howard’s face dropped serious, “He’s not like me, he’s fragile.” He grinned, “What, your intern died, and you’re moping?”

Tony felt his anger building, “Don’t you—”

“You’re going to destroy yourself,” Obadiah interrupted, “And it will be great to witness.”

Tony knew he was sleeping, he had to be, but he decided to play along with it, “Why are you here?”

“Oh, it’s not like we wanna be,” Howard rolled his eyes, “But it’s an order.”

Tony asked, “From who?”

“That’s for us to know..” Obadiah said, “And for you, to hopefully never find out.”

Howard spoke up, “You will be visited, by three sprits, before dawn.”

“Wait…” Tony couldn’t hide a laugh, “Isn’t this the plot to _‘A Christmas Carol’_?”

“Of course,” Howard sighed, “But the spirit realm agreed that you might understand their message displayed in a form that you recognize.”

Tony dug his nails into his palm again, but he didn’t wake.

“The intern liked it, didn’t he?” Obadiah raised, “Peter Parker, and you, watched that stupid puppet version at least five times, every Christmas you had with him.”

Tony felt a stab of anger, and he stepped closer, “Don’t say his name.”

“How many Christmases did you get with him before you let him die?” Obadiah asked, “Two?”

“Shut it, Obie,” Howard snapped, “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be here any longer than we need to be.”

“You seem close,” Tony raised, he pointed over to Obadiah, “You know what he did?”

Howard nodded, “Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes,” Howard confirmed, “At least he had the companies best interests, at heart.”

Tony smiled, finally having the confirmation, that his father was just as bad as Obadiah, “But not mine,” He whispered, hoping they wouldn’t hear.

“Be ready, Tony,” Howard said, “Your first visitor will be here when the clock tolls one.”

With that, they disappeared, back into the dark.

The lights flickered on, but everything else, like the television and Friday, remained shut off.

Tony swayed towards the couch, sitting down, with a thud. He suppressed a shiver, crossing his arms across his chest, he reached over, pinching the back of his hand, “Come on...” He didn’t wake, all he was left with was a small sting.

He’d seen crazy things, across the years, and perhaps, the spirit realm trying to get his attention wasn’t too wild, to be true.

Still, it seemed ridiculous, but if it were a dream, and he couldn’t wake, the only thing he could do, was go along with it.

He kept his head bowed, and his eyes locked onto the coffee table feet.

Minutes passed, and the clock on the wall chimed one o’clock.

Tony looked up, knowing the clock was digital and didn’t usually make a noise when it hit the hour, "Shit..."

The curtains behind him were blown aside; Tony leaped to his feet, slowly circling the couch. 

He looked below the window, noticing the spirit’s feet touched the floor.

Their long sky-blue skirt trailed down, stopping above their heels.

Tony sucked in a sharp breath because he knew who he was about to see.

For the ghost, of Christmas Past, was his mother.

She greeted him, with a soft smile, and her hands extended out, in front of her.

Tony’s eyes welled with tears, “Mum?” He stumbled over, falling into her open arms like he wished he’d done the day she left.

“Hey, darling,” She sang, tangling her hand, in his hair.

He squealed, “Are you real?”

“Oh, honey…” She leaned back, grasping his hands, “You know the answer.”

Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Yeah,” He nodded frantically.

“The spirits who have sent me,” Maria began, “Have instructed me to lead you through the past.”

Tony tightened his grip, on her hands, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

“We’ll do this together,” She stepped aside, keeping her hand in his, as they turned towards the open windows.

Tony frowned, with a raised eyebrow, “Are we jumping?”

“No,” She chuckled lightly, “We’re flying.”

Tony’s stomach dropped to his feet, as she charged forward, pulling him along. He closed his eyes as they jumped over the ledge, but when they didn’t plummet, he opened them.

He’d seen the nightlight of New York City, from skies within the comfort of his suits, but there was something different and welcoming, seeing it without that barrier. 

They flew, into a bright white light ahead, “Where are we going?” He asked, fighting to speak through the gushing wind.

“You’ll see,” She said, as they descended towards the ground.

Tony’s eyes widened when everything came into view.

It was the grand house, where he was raised, as a little boy; a far cry, from the lakehouse, that Morgan called home.

When they touched the ground, Tony’s attention was caught, by a familiar laugh.

Over, on the garden swing, wrapped up in their warm winter wear, was his Uncle Jarvis and his Auntie Ana, hand-in-hand, lovingly teasing one another, like they always did.

“I was always glad, that you had them,” Maria spoke, with a half-smile, “And your Aunt Peggy, to turn to, whenever I couldn’t be there for you.” She pulled him close, “I only wish, I could have saved you, from your father’s shadow.”

Tony shook his head, “You did your best.”

“Daniel, you’ve got to stop,” Peggy’s familiar voice ordered, “I’ve got them.”

Tony turned, to see, what the commotion was about.

A pregnant, Peggy, was striding down the driveway, with three wrapped gifts under her arm.

Tony’s Uncle Daniel was skipping along beside her, holding a gift bag, with his cane, in his other hand, “Pegs, are you—”

“I’ve got them,” She groaned, “Seriously, Daniel, I’m not sure why I let you out.”

Tony couldn’t hold back a fond laugh, remembering how headstrong his aunt was.

“Peggy…” Ana jogged over, greeting Peggy, with a kiss on the cheek, “Happy holidays.”

Much like Peter, Ana came from a Jewish background; Jarvis had forged a signature to help her flee from Hungary during the second world war. 

Despite not following any Christmas traditions, she made a big deal out of decorating and gifts, for Jarvis' and Tony's benefit; she and Jarvis had always wanted a big family, but they couldn't have children, of their own, but Ana had once told Tony, that she was happy because they had him. 

Jarvis walked over, with a grin.

“Happy holidays,” Peggy looked around the garden, with a frown, “Now, where is my Godson? He told me he was planning to build the world’s biggest snowman.”

“He’s in the workshop, with his father,” Ana explained, with a sigh.

Jarvis chipped in, “I believe they were fixing the Lamborghini’s engine.”

"You have to be joking," Peggy held out the gifts, “Can you please take these from me, Mr. Jarvis?”

He leaned out, scooping them up, “Of course, Ms. Carter.”

“It is Christmas, for Heaven’s Sake,” Peggy said, with a pinched expression, “Tony will spend the day, being spoiled, not being taught how to fix a blasted engine.”

Tony spun, to face his mother, “Aunt Peggy was one of the only people, whoever stood up to Dad.”

“She was,” Maria agreed, “Never let him get away with anything.”

Tony watched as Peggy stormed inside the house, “It’s why they stopped talking, isn’t it?”

“I believe so.”

Tony hurried inside, wanting to see what happened next.

Peggy strode across the entranceway, towards the staircase that led to Howard’s workshop, she pressed a hand on the banister, “Howard, you better get your arse upstairs before I kick you where the sun doesn’t shine,” She ordered, “And bring my godson up, with you.”

A younger version, of Tony’s mother, circled the corner, “Peggy…”

Peggy turned, “Maria, I’m sorry but he—”

“No, I won’t stop you,” Maria sighed, with an uncertain smile, “Give him hell.”

Peggy winked, “You got it.”

Tony looked to the ghostly form of his mother, noticing the sadness, in her eyes.

Howard stomped upstairs, with a young Tony, trailing behind his knee.

Tony sucked in a breath, realizing how much, he resembled Morgan.

Young Tony scurried away, locking his arms around Peggy’s leg.

She pressed a hand to his back, “Good morning, sweetheart,” She greeted, her voice calm, “Merry Christmas.”

Tony hid behind her leg, timid, “Happy Christmas."

Tony remembered how afraid he was of his father, and the only person, he could _‘act out’_ around, was Peggy.

The only person, his father, was afraid of.

Howard reclined his head, “Peggy—”

“We need to talk,” Peggy barked, she tapped Tony’s head, “Honey, why don’t you go and open presents, with your mum?”

“Okay!” Tony’s young counterpart hurried away, grabbing his mother’s hand, who guided him towards the lounge.

Fury flickered, in Peggy's eyes, “What are you doing?”

Howard stood straight, with a hand on his hip, “Teaching my son a valuable lesson.”

“It’s Christmas Day, Howard,” Peggy pointed out, “And Tony, is a living, breathing child, and he deserves to have fun, especially today.”

“Nobody _deserves_ anything.”

“He is your kid,” Peggy spat, “Not an investment, for your company’s future.” She pressed a hand, over her bump, “It’s bad enough that you’re shipping him off to boarding school, in five short years, at least, let him be a child while he’s still a child.”

“When you’re a parent,” Howard fought, “You’ll have a new tune.”

Peggy’s rage shot through her, “I would never put my livelihood above my child’s happiness.”

“I’m protecting his future.”

“You’re ruining his childhood,” Peggy snapped, “It will not be his fault when he grows up to resent you.”

Tony turned his face away, he wished he’d been there for Peggy more, but in her last few years, his visits were spaced and short. He couldn’t bring himself together, to accept that he’d lose her, _his hero_.

With the commotion of the accords, he missed her funeral.

A decision, he’d never be able to take back.

“That’s enough,” Howard’s nasals flared, “Do not tell me how to raise my son.” He stepped aside, but Peggy caught his wrist, pulling him back, “Let go.”

“Steve fought for a world, where children could be children, instead of being shortlisted for war,” Peggy said, keeping her eyes locked onto his, “And he’d be ashamed, of the small world you are building, for yours.”

Howard snatched his wrist back, a look of disbelief written across his face. He walked back down, towards his workshop, without another word.

Peggy cupped a hand over her mouth, bowing her head, with a cry.

“She fought for me,” Tony said, tears in his eyes, “I should have—”

“She never blamed you, for the distance,” Maria vowed, “She despised your father and his actions, well into her later life, but she adored you, until the very end.”

“You all tried,” Tony cried, “But nothing, stopped me, from wanting to impress him.”

“You stopped yourself,” She said, squeezing his arm, “When you became Iron Man, you were pushing out the tainted legacy, your father tried to bestow on you.”

“It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“I assure you, it is,” She tugged him aside, “Come on, we have much to see.”

They circled a corner, but instead of the lounge, Tony was welcomed, by the familiar sight of his old boarding school.

One of the classrooms, to be specific.

Eleven-year-old Tony was sitting at a desk, in the empty room, his head, in a book.

The distant sound, of children, cheering, and Christmas music playing, brought Tony back to a memory he'd suppressed, over the years.

To set an example, Howard would leave Tony, at the school, over the holiday period.

Alone, he believed Tony would learn, that nobody deserved anything.

Tony, with tear-filled eyes, watched, as the years went by, in front of him.

Sped up, by whatever power his mother had been granted, by the spirit realm.

Every Christmas was the same, he was alone.

That was until, they reached the fourth Christmas, and a fourteen-year Tony, was slotting books back, onto the shelf.

Footsteps creaked, in the corridor and hushed familiar voices echoed.

Tony remembered this, one of the greatest days of his early life.

Peggy stepped inside, with Jarvis beside her, “Tony,” She called out, in a whisper.

The teenage Tony, spun, his face lighting up, “Aunt Peggy? Uncle Jarvis?” He stammered, “What—what are you doing here?”

Peggy pulled him into her arms, “We’re taking you home for Christmas.”

“Really?”

“We’re all staying at mine,” Peggy told him, “Even your mum.”

Jarvis nodded, “We do not care what your father has to say."

"Thank you!"

Tony watched, as the trio left, laughing among themselves.

“That Christmas was one of my favorites,” Tony sighed, “Until New Year, when Dad found out that they’d taken me without permission.”

His mother hung her head.

“He punished me,” Tony lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, “All that relentless screaming, was worth it when Aunt Peggy punched him.”

“It was a good swing.”

“It was," Tony smiled, “Strange, I met Rhodey, in the new year, and everything changed; he was the first real thing, that I found without Dad.”

“James?” Maria questioned, “He’s a good influence on you.”

“Oh, nobody calls him that anymore,” Tony snickered, “But he is amazing,” He pulled his hand away, pacing to the end of the classroom.

“What is it, honey?”

“After college,” He started, “I shut them out, only saw them a couple of times a year, but _oh_ , they were there, a lot, after we lost you,” He rubbed his palms together, “Care packages and homemade soup. But, I was distant, I thought by stepping away, I was sparing them from who I was growing up to be."

“You are not your father, sweetheart,” Maria told him, “And all of them are proud of who you are today.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” She reached out, taking his hands, once more, “We have a few more stops.”

Tony nodded, following her lead.

They stepped, into his lab, from his mansion.

Tony caught a glimpse of himself, doubled over, with his arms against the worktop, struggling to wheeze through each desperate breath,

This was the year, he was dying and refused to ask for help.

His mother raised her head, “What did you feel like at this period in your life?”

Tony replied, with zero hesitation, “A waste of space.”

She shuddered, “Look closer, and tell me, what do you see?”

“A lonely man,” Tony sniffled, “Surrounded by people who care, but he refuses to reach out because he doesn’t believe that he is worth it.” He held a hand under his chin, surprised at his sudden outburst.

“I see,” She guided him to the side, “Let me show you something.”

They turned a corner that led into an old apartment bedroom.

A place that Tony had never seen.

Sat on the center of the bed, was a kid, wearing an Iron Man Helmet and pretending to zap his bookcase.

Tony shook his head, “If you’re trying to show me, that people see me as a hero, it doesn’t help, because nobody should ever look up to me.”

She nudged his arm, “Even if you helped?”

Tony frowned, “What?”

A man jogged into the room, clapping his hands with an exclaim, “It’s dinner time, kiddo!”

“That’s Ben Parker…” Tony’s heart dropped, “Which means that kid must be—”

“Peter…” Ben sang, kneeling beside the bed, “You can’t wear that helmet all the time.”

Peter squeaked, “Yes, I can.”

“So, you can shower, and eat…” Ben reached up, carefully taking the helmet off, he ruffled Peter’s unruly curls, “With it on, hey?”

Peter lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “It makes me feel brave.”

“Oh, it does, does it?” Ben asked, studying the helmet, “Why’s that?”

“It makes Tony Stark feel safe,” Peter smiled, “He lost his mummy and daddy, like me so that means, I can be a superhero too.”

“Yeah,” Ben smiled, nudging Peter’s chin up, “You can be whatever you wanna be.”

Tony blinked away tears; he knew how proud Ben would be of his kid, but also how broken he’d feel knowing that Peter never made it past sixteen.

Tony spun, to face his mother, “I don’t want to see anything else.”

She nodded knowingly, “Okay.”

She pressed a hand on his back, taking him to the apartment, where they'd began.

She took his hands, holding them close, “It's time..."

Tony blurted, “I don’t want you to go." 

“The next spirit is already on their way,” She rested her hand, against his cheek, “But we were lucky to have this time together,” She smiled, “I am proud, of all you have accomplished, and I’m sorry, that I can’t give you guidance, on what you’re going to see tonight, but you need to be ready,” She stood on her tiptoes, kissing his forehead, “I love you.”

He closed his eyes and whispered, “I love you too.”

Suddenly her grip was no more, and when he opened his eyes, he was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH! I can't believe this is FINALLY OUT! AHHH. I hope you all enjoy it :)  
> One chapter a day until Christmas Eve! I'm spoiling you, haha!


	2. I'll Be Home For Christmas (If Only In My Dreams)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Spirit Of Christmas Future - another familiar face - guides Tony through the present, where he realizes that his reckless actions are affecting those he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings listed in End Note.**

Tony wasn’t sure how long he’d been alone; he’d been pacing, back and forth, trying his best to understand what he’d seen since his mother had left him.

The distant sound, of the church bell tower chiming two o’clock, caught his attention.

He headed over to the window and drew the curtains to peer outside, all he could see was the blizzard of white.

A chill covered the room, Tony curled his arms around his front, as he let go of a slow breath.

Nothing else followed, no spirit, no sound, and that put him on edge.

He spun, bringing his hands to his mouth, to blow warm air into them. 

He jolted when his phone started to ring, “What?”

The last time he’d checked, it wasn’t even turning on.

He buried a hand, deep into his pocket, taking out his cell.

The number was private, but Tony’s subconscious was screaming, pleading with him to answer.

He accepted the call and held it, to his ear, “Hello?”

“ _Hey, Happy! Um, here’s my report for tonight.”_

It was Peter’s voice, not only that, but it was one of those loveable voice messages he used to leave, that submerged Tony, with guilt, whenever he heard them. Knowing he wasn’t the best influence, in the beginning, believing he should shut the kid out, instead of letting him in.

Tony’s tightened his hand, around the phone, but the rest of him was frozen

 _“I stopped a grand theft bicycle. Couldn’t find the owner, so I just left a note,”_ Peter exclaimed, his tone was high-pitched and overly excited, the kid he was when they met, but not the same one Tony lost.

Peter, who died, was starting to understand the dangers of the life he’d gotten himself into.

“ _Um... I helped this lost, old Dominican lady_ ,” Peter spoke, with his mouth full, “ _She was really nice and bought me a churro_.”

Tony felt tears, filling his eyes, but he couldn’t step away. It was almost like a force, was holding him still, keeping him from moving.

_“So, I just, um, feel like I could be doing more. You know?”_

_More?_ If only he knew.

“ _Just curious when the next real mission is gonna be_ ,” Peter sighed, “ _So, yeah, just call me back. It’s Peter.”_ He blurted, _“Parker_.”

The line went dead.

Tony’s hands caught up, with his head, and he tossed his phone onto the floor.

He let go of a wheezed breath he’d been holding onto, “Holy shit!” He balled his fist in his hair and pulled on it, “Look, I don’t know who is doing this.”

He clapped his hands, trying to gain the attention of the realm that was constructing it all.

“I don’t know what you’re teaching me, or what it is that you want me to do,” Tony twirled, looking out for the next spirit, “But I promise, I will do whatever it is,” He pressed his palms together, holding his hands under his chin, “Just please, don’t drag _him_ into this.”

The universe could play Tony, in whatever way it wanted, but he refused to let Peter be a pawn in their game.

Being paralyzed, on the spot, hearing one of Peter’s voicemails played back, didn’t seem like it came from a positive source. 

He couldn’t tell what the realm’s endgame was.

“He was my kid,” Tony’s throat cracked, “I lost him, and whoever you are, you know that,” He threw his arms out, “I wonder if you understand how this feels.”

He shuffled away, to the window, he peeled back the curtains, keeping his eyes on the blanket of snow below.

“I watched him die, in agony, and I couldn’t hold him together,” He closed his eyes, “I didn’t realize, he was my kid until I had my little girl.”

Morgan, a shining light, among the dark, who deserved all the good in the world, like her brother before her.

“I was scared shitless, about being a father,” Tony pressed his forehead against the cold glass, “And when I held her, for the first time, I realized I already was one.” He scrunched his nose, “By then, it was too late.”

He clenched his fists by his sides.

“I can’t claim that title for Peter, because I wasn’t there, in the beginning, but hey,” He shrugged, “Pep says we can’t help how we feel,” He scraped his teeth over his lower lip, “Pete was my kid, and I’m begging you, do _not_ use his memory against me.”

He pushed away, pacing back towards the kitchen.

“Look at me,” He barked a laugh, “Being honest.” He combed a hand back through his hair, “I’m not usually but I’m talking to a realm…or myself.” He held a hand, over his eyes, “Maybe I’m losing it.”

A familiar voice squeaked back from behind him, “You’re not losing it.”

Tony’s breath hitched, “No…” He kept his eyes locked, dead, onto the wall in front of him, “I said...”

“Mr. Stark?"

Tony choked out an intangible yelp, “Please…”

 _Peter_ called again, “Mr. Stark?!"

Tony didn’t turn, “Please, I can’t do this—”

Gentle fingers locked around Tony’s arm, “Hey…”

Tony flinched, pulling away as he spun around.

Peter took a step back, he nervously fumbled, with his fingers, he awkwardly extended his hand to wave, "Hi." 

Although he was transparent, with a blue hue simmering around his Iron Spider’s suit, Peter seemed more _alive_ than Tony’s mother had.

Peter rocked, back and forth on his heels, “It’s good to see you.”

Tony raised his chin at a loss for words.

He’d begged the realm to not include Peter, in this, but perhaps the voicemail had been a kindness, warning him, about what was to come.

Tony quickly accepted it, because, after almost four years, the kid was a few steps ahead of him. He stumbled over, biting his lip, “H—” He hesitantly held up his hand, resting it against Peter’s cheek.

“Hey,” Peter repeated as he raised his hand, laying it against Tony’s, “You okay?”

Tony sobbed a laugh as he dragged Peter into his arms, holding onto him, as tight as he could, knowing he’d slip away again.

“Oh,” Peter rested his head against Tony’s shoulder, sinking into his hold, “This is nice.”

“Kid…” Tony leaned back, keeping his hands locked around Peter’s arms, “My Peter…”

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurted, “I’m so sorry for that I’m—”

Tony shushed him, “Don’t you dare,” He scolded, with a gentle tone, “It’s not your fault.”

Peter pulled away, “It’s not yours either.”

“How much of all that—” Tony cried, “Did you hear?”

“All of it,” Peter admitted, “I never—”

“I miss you,” Tony interrupted, wanting to move on, from the whole commotion.

“I miss you too,” Peter swayed back over, “And I’m happy, that I'm here, doing this with you…”

“So, you know what this is?” Tony asked, “This whole—”

“Christmas Carol,” Peter hummed, he tapped the side of his head, “It’s all in here, what I have to show you, and why.”

“Why?”

“I can’t tell you.”

Tony itched the side of his cheek, “I guessed that.”

“You’ll get there,” Peter told him.

“I hope so.”

“So,” Peter tapped his foot against the floor, trying to ready himself, “I’m the Ghost of Christmas Present.”

When it came down to it, it made perfect sense that Peter was the Ghost of Christmas Present; he shouldn't have died, so young. This was a time, that he could have prevailed, in a space where he belonged; Peter was gone, but he was present, in Tony's life and Morgan's bedtime stories, that sometimes, Tony forgot that he wasn't around anymore. 

“Makes sense,” Tony said, “Wasn’t he always the happy one?”

“Kinda,” Peter nodded, “He’s basically Santa, I guess.”

“Suits you then.”

“This won’t all be fun,” Peter reached out, grabbing Tony’s low hanging wrist, “And we have a lot to see.”

“All right.”

Peter lifted his head, “Are you scared?”

“I’m never scared,” Tony leaned over, pressing a kiss amongst Peter’s curls, “Not when Peter Parker’s nearby.”

Peter grinned, “Really?”

“Really.”

“Come on, then,” Peter tightened his grip around Tony’s hand, “We better go.”

“Go-”

Tony’s sentence was cut short.

They didn’t fly, like with Tony’s mother, instead, they abruptly appeared on a street corner.

It was empty, and a few streetlights above shone their path, “Let’s cheat, a little,” Peter said, as the night quickly turned into day, and around them, people appeared, dotted along the road.

Tony looked around, “Christmas morning?”

“Yeah.”

Neighbors were stood, on one another’s porches trading gifts, and food.

Some children were running around, in the street, cheering among themselves as they tossed around snowballs.

Peter nudged his arm, “What do you see?”

“People.”

“Well, yeah,” Peter said, “But what else?”

“I guess…” Tony spun his head around, “They’re having fun?”

“Wherever you find love,” Peter cracked a smile, “It feels like Christmas.”

“That’s from the Muppet movie.”

“Obviously,” Peter laughed, as he stepped ahead, “But I think it stands.”

“It doesn’t really feel like Christmas.”

Peter turned back, pointing up, “Now, that’s Coldplay.”

Tony shook his head, with a laugh, “Kid…”

“I’m joking.”

They stood in silence, for a moment, taking on the community surrounding them.

“It’s all different, isn’t it?” Peter spoke softly, “Since Thanos won?”

“Yes,” Tony shuddered, “The world is smaller but bigger, all at the same time.”

Peter motioned towards the street, “They look out for each other?”

“It’s all we can do,” Tony sighed heavily, “There’s a sense of community.”

Peter crossed his arms, “People are kinder?”

Tony nodded.

Peter turned his face away, crossing his arms, “Would you say Thanos was right?”

Tony’s stomach leaped into his throat, “No, no – _God_ , no, kid,” He shook his head frantically, “The world is empty, and so are the people.” He threw his arms out, to their sides, “Thanos didn’t achieve, what he set out, to do, because these people aren’t happy.”

Peter darted his eyes around, “They look happy.”

Tony exclaimed, “Because happy doesn’t mean what it used to!”

Peter relaxed his arms, by his sides, keeping an eye on Tony.

“Nobody’s the same,” Tony said slowly, “We grasp on to what we have left.”

Tony clenched his fists, by his sides, looking away from Peter.

“Thanos did this but didn’t take the time to read the small print,” He buried his hands, deep into his pockets, “Diseases still exist, like cancer and dementia, so people are still dying every day! Children were left abandoned without parents, and not all of them were found,” He wiped the back of his sleeve across his face, “Suicides, homicides, they rise at an alarming rate, _every day_. People who believe that they have no other option are left with nothing.”

Peter blinked away tears, “Is there anything good?”

“Like you said,” Tony held out his hand, “People are kinder.”

“What about you?”

“Same old,” Tony smiled, “Pepper, Happy, Rhodey—”

“And Morgan?”

Tony snapped his head up, fast, “You know about her?”

“Of course,” Peter chuckled, “I know everything—”

“She’s the only good thing, that came out of this,” Tony admitted, “I’d be lost—”

“She’s amazing.”

“She is,” Tony took in the lives playing around him, “I’ve tried to help out, as best as I can, but I can’t save them.”

Peter held up his head, “Maybe, it’s not your job to save them all.”

“Maybe not,” Tony ducked his head, “But I feel like it is.”

Peter stepped, into his line of sight, “But who will save you, Mr. Stark?”

Tony went to speak, but realized he had nothing to say, “I— _I_ don’t know.”

Morgan, Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, all saved Tony, in a magnitude of ways, but the way Peter formed the question, made Tony think.

His family had rescued him more times than he could count, but somehow, despite all their love, he was still stuck, only halfway out of the dark.

Peter tilted his head to his shoulder, “You will.”

Tony wasn’t sure, but the assurance in Peter’s voice was definite.

Peter locked his fingers around Tony’s hand, and they shifted, reappearing, inside one of the communal living spaces at the Headquarters.

Before Tony could even ask why; his attention was caught by Natasha.

She was curled up, in the corner of the couch, wearing pink and white Christmas pajamas, with her cell phone clenched in her hand, hugged close to her chest.

Tony’s stomach churned, he pressed a hand against it, “Oh…”

He’d never see her, with her guard down, and it wasn’t an easy sight to behold.

She was sobbing but it was silent.

The loneliness of the one who got left behind.

Her phone rang.

She quickly wiped the back of her sleeve over her eyes, and cleared her throat, with a cough.

It was an awful sight, to witness, how easily she could regain her usual persona.

She answered, on loudspeaker, and jumped to her feet, to pace as she spoke, “What do we know?”

Rhodey answered, _“He’s still M.I.A.”_

Natasha sank, hiding her face behind her hand, as she concealed a cry by biting down on her lip.

Tony knew that they’d been struggling to get into contact with Clint, ever since everything went down.

He was a man who never wanted to be found.

Tony turned, on his heel, to face Peter, “Do you know where Barton is?”

Peter looked up, with a nod.

“Can you take me to him?” Tony didn’t know if he would remember the events of the night after it was over, but if he could find Clint’s location, perhaps Natasha could try her best to convince him to stop what he was doing and come home.

Tony knew that he’d personally done the team wrong, and they’d done the same to him, but if the unprompted visits from his dead mother and kid were teaching him anything, it was that he needed to be there, for those left behind.

“Not now,” Peter sighed, he motioned his head towards Natasha, “You need to listen.”

Tony turned to where Natasha was hovering.

Rhodey’s voice came again, “ _He didn’t come home, this morning, and he’s refusing to answer his phone_.”

Tony swallowed a lump, in his throat, because they weren’t talking about Clint, "Oh." 

“ _Pepper can’t stop Morgan, from crying_ ,” Rhodey sniffled, “ _I don’t know what to do, he’s never let her down before_.”

Natasha shook her head, “I’m heading over.”

Rhodey asked, _“Where?”_

“The kid’s apartment.”

 _“I wouldn’t,”_ Rhodey warned, _“Tony is never in the right mindset, around Pete’s place - he’s basically catatonic.”_

“I get that,” Natasha moved, grabbing a jacket from the back of the couch, “But he can’t do this, Rhodes, we can’t let him do this.” She hurried across the room, grabbing her shoes from beside the television, “I refuse to let him lose himself.”

“ _Nat…_ ” Rhodey said softly, “ _He’s not Barton—”_

“I know!” She snapped as she sat down, to do her shoelaces, one-handed, “I know that I promise you, I know that.”

_“Just be careful.”_

“I will be,” She hung up and buried her cell into her pocket, as she finished tying her laces.

She gunned for the door, keeping her head held low as she huffed and puffed, under her breath.

Tony turned on his heel to face Peter, “Pete, I need to—”

Peter mindlessly kicked his foot out in front of him, “See Barton?”

“Yeah,” Tony nodded, “I just—”

Peter’s eyes welled with tears, “Do you care about him?”

“Um…” Tony buried his hands, in his pockets, “We get on each other’s nerves, but yeah, I do care…”

“He’s not the same man,” Peter told him, “I think he’s too far gone, Mr. Stark…”

“Do you know that?” Tony asked, “Or has the cosmic out-of-this-world spirit realm told you that?”

“They showed me everything that I need to know,” Peter shrugged, “I’m not sure you wanna see this.”

“I don’t want to,” Tony informed him, “I _need_ to.”

“Okay…” With a shaking hand, Peter squeezed Tony’s arm, and they arrived, standing at the end of a desolate alleyway, "Here..." 

The sun was out, but hidden behind dark rain clouds, and there was no snow on the ground.

The area seemed like it had once been residential, but the few houses Tony could see had boarded up windows.

“Where—” Tony looked to Peter, who was staring down the alleyway, with a hand rested under his chin.

Tony turned.

A hooded figure was leaning up against the wall, holding up a katana, in their right hand.

“Barton—”

The figure turned, revealing Clint’s tormented face, his chest rose and fell, with rapid breaths.

Tony slouched his shoulders, his hand slipped out of Peter’s as he stumbled forward, “Holy shit.”

There was a splatter of blood, on Clint’s cheek, and his hands were trembling.

Perhaps, it was the bitter December air, getting to him, or he wasn’t as far gone as Peter thought.

Tony spun, “Where are we?”

“Hmm, England,” Peter looked around, “Liverpool.”

“And it’s Christmas?”

Peter nodded, “Christmas morning, yeah.”

“Fuck…”

Peter balanced a hand, on Tony’s back, “Follow me.”

Tony looked at him, knowing he’d follow the kid anywhere, but he had to ask, “Do I want to?”

Peter caught Tony’s low hanging wrist, “You need to.”

Tony followed Peter out of the alley, towards one of the empty houses.

A pungent smell hit him, and he skidded to a halt, covering his face, with his cupped hand; it was like rotting meat, but there was a familiar sickening tinge of sweetness.

Unfortunately, it was a smell he knew all too well.

Tony followed the smell and found the culprits, “Oh, God—” He retched, moving his hand, to cover his mouth.

Three bodies, all men, were spread around, tucked up against a garage door. Guns loosely held in their hands, that they’d had no time to make good use of. They’d been sliced and diced, it didn’t take an idiot to work out who was the perpetrator.

“No…” Tony reached out, turning Peter away from the sight, “Don’t—”

“Mr. Stark…” Peter sank, “I’m already dead…”

“Don’t say that,” Tony snapped, as he slowed his breathing, “I just don’t want you seeing that kinda stuff, okay?”

Peter lowered his head, “Okay,” He crossed his arms, “They weren’t good people…”

“I don’t care,” Tony paced away, “He’s killing people, and not on orders, or because they’re attacking first, he’s doing it, because this is what he thinks he needs to do.”

“Like Thanos?”

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, “Like Thanos.”

Peter awkwardly held back, “What about you?”

Tony blinked, looking up, “Me?”

“Ultron," Peter didn't want to say these words, Tony could tell, but he persisted, "He wasn't an order..."

“Ah,” Tony sighed, “Ultron was a mistake—”

Peter interrupted, “You weren’t trying to make him a murderbot, you were just trying to protect everyone that you love.”

“Not just love, kiddo,” Tony said, “I was trying to save everyone.”

Peter lifted his head, “Is that your job?”

“Yes, no…” He buried his hand, in his hair, “ _Maybe_.” He held out an arm, “I wanted to do right, by those I hurt, but I’ve messed up a lot.”

“Barton kills people because he thinks, it makes him feel better,” Peter sniffled, “Because of what happened to his family.”

“It isn’t going to bring them back…” Tony’s breath caught, “Oh…”

“Ultron was born, from loss, right?” Peter asked, “From the moment, you were in that Humvee, with those soldiers…”

Tears welled in Tony’s eyes, “Jimmy…”

“Yinsen, the victims of New York and Extremis,” Peter listed, “People you couldn’t save…”

“What are you doing?” Tony asked, “I can’t tell—” He scrunched his nose, “I could read you before, but these aren’t your words, kid.”

“They are,” Peter swallowed, “Just because I know things, I didn’t before, doesn’t make me any less me.”

“There are things I didn’t want you to know…” Tony admitted, “Things my kid shouldn’t know.”

“Pepper once told me, that you carry blame and guilt with you, everywhere,” Peter told him, “And I know now, that since becoming Iron Man, you’ve done everything you can to do your best.”

“Ultron killed people…”

“He did, and yeah, that’s your fault,” Peter nodded, “But you made him because you thought it was the right thing to do.”

“What…” Tony turned away, “Like Barton thinks this is right?”

“But you—”

“I made machines of peace,” Tony huffed a laugh, “And somehow fashioned them into weapons.”

“Vision—”

“He’s dead, kid.”

“But he was good…” Peter told him, “You’ve made mistakes, but so has every superhero.”

“I’m not a hero—”

“Rhodey is War Machine because you trusted him, but also because he trusted you,” Peter informed him, “Black Widow, Captain America, The Falcon and everyone else when SHIELD fell, you gave them suits and a place to sleep and work.”

“I did…”

“Imagine how many lives that saved…” Peter sighed, “Barton is going too far…”

“I know.”

Barton went after bad people, from all corners of the earth. Some of the murders most likely benefitted others, but some might have pushed those left further into the dark.

Tony turned his head, “I hope we can reach him, one day.”

“I hope so too,” Peter interlocked his fingers, with Tony’s hand, “Are you ready to go, Mr. Stark?”

Tony lowered his head, “Yeah.”

They moved to an open studio apartment, but the curtains were drawn, though the morning sunlight was shining through the cracks.

Steve emerged from behind his breakfast bar, with his cell rested between his cheek and shoulder as he placed his jacket on the back of one of the chairs, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

Tony could hear Natasha’s fast-paced voice but couldn’t make out what she was saying.

“Well…” Steve rubbed the nape of his neck, “Can you keep me updated?” He asked, perching on the side of a chair, “Thank you.” He twirled around, “Talk to you soon.” He hung up, placing his phone down onto the worktop, he leaned forward, holding his head in his hand, “Oh, Tony...”

Since Thanos, none of them were particularly close anymore.

Tony saw Natasha, every other weekend, when she came around for dinner, and to see Morgan, but out of all of the Avengers, he saw her the most.

Still, it would never be the same as it was before.

Tony hadn’t seen Steve, since Morgan was a baby, and their short conversations, over the phone, were just that – _short._

Steve disappeared into his bathroom.

Tony jerked, at the sound of the door closing, “I know what this is.” He muttered, spinning back to the unaware Peter, whose ghostly eyes were locked onto the wall, “Kid…”

Peter raised his head, “Yeah?”

“I know what this is,” He repeated, “Why you were sent here, whatever the spirit realm wants to teach me.”

“You do?”

“You danced around it earlier,” Tony folded his arms, “Losing people is my weakness. I would go back and lose, every war, fight and battle, I’ve fought – if it meant everyone who died along the way, were still here.” He spilled, “Look at you, everything about you, who you were, it kills me, to see it because of all that pain…”

“And you feel that….”

“Every day,” Tony blurted, “If I’m right, the lesson I’m being taught here, is that I have to let go of all that, and concentrate on what I’ve got left before I lose it.”

“Maybe….”

“I can’t move on, I really can't!” Tony cried, “Losing you was worse than anything I’ve ever been through, and I—”

Peter blinked away tears, “It didn’t hurt, you know?”

Tony’s eyes flew open, “What?”

Peter knocked his heels together, “Dying,” He shrugged, “It didn’t hurt.”

Tony breathed, “You remember?”

“It was actually easy.” He tapped his foot against the ground, “It was just like a brain freeze that I couldn’t shake.”

“Kid, you were terrified—”

“I was,” Peter agreed, “But, you were there, and I was more scared, of leaving you, than anything—”

Tony sighed, “Oh, kid—”

“I want you to be happy,” Peter smiled as he rested a hand on Tony’s arm, “I know I can’t tell you, but all of this will be worth it.”

“No, it won’t,” Tony wiped a hand over his face, “Not without you.”

Peter jumped up, throwing his arms around Tony, “I’m sorry.”

Tony closed his eyes, resting his forehead against Peter’s shoulder, “So…” He leaned back, “Where next?”

Peter squeezed his hand, “Here.”

They were out, in the countryside, a strong winter breeze blew through them.

Upon the hilltop, to their left, was Thor, hunched over, studying the horizon of New Asgard.

Peter looked to Tony, “You helped him find this place?”

“I bought it,” Tony swallowed, “So they’d have a home, but he doesn’t look happy…”

“He lost,” Peter said, “You all did, but—”

“Not as much as him.” He gripped onto Peter’s hand, tighter, “I get it now, kid, and when this is over, I’ll let them in.”

Peter looked up, with those big puppy dog eyes, and his small sad smile, “Promise?”

Tony nodded, “Promise.”

Peter squeezed his hand once more, and they reappeared, in a small dismal looking room.

Tucked in the corner, illuminated by his computer screen, was Bruce. Hunched over in his chair, going through his research notes, desperately looking for a solution for his condition.

“Doesn’t look like any of them, are enjoying the festivities,” Tony tensed his shoulders, “I wish he had reached out, or maybe, I should...”

Peter nudged his shoulder, with his arm, “There’s still time.”

Tony smiled, “I hope so.”

It seemed, that not only Tony, felt lonely, and the world wasn’t only out to get to him.

Peter took his hand.

They shifted again, to the one place, Tony was wishing, they wouldn’t have to see.

_Home._

Tony noticed Morgan first.

She was crouched, in front of the television, with puffy cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. She had her Spider-Man plushie tucked tightly under her arm, and was being distracted by Nick Toons.

Tony turned towards the kitchen.

Pepper was stood, beside the sink, with her arms crossed; there was a flicker of worry, in her eyes, but anger too.

Happy and Rhodey were stood nearby, watching her.

Pepper reached over, to the drying rack, taking the clean plates to place into the cupboard, “I feel…” She slammed the door shut, “I feel like a terrible wife…” She lifted her shoulders, in a shrug, “I can’t help him, no matter what I do.”

“It’s not your fault, Pepper,” Rhodey vowed, “We know he’s not one, for opening up about things like this…”

“I wish there was a way,” Pepper pressed a hand, to her temple, “I loved Peter too, we all did, but not in the way that he does," She clasped her fingers together, “I don’t know, what’s he’s feeling but if somebody, tore Morgan away from me, I’d be the same.”

“I think he knows,” Happy rested his hand on his hip, “That this isn’t what Peter would want for him.”

“But imagine how much that revelation hurts,” Pepper waved her hand out, in front of her chest as she sucked in an unsteady breath, “Knowing, that Peter would want him to be happy, but—”

Rhodey mindlessly skidded his foot across the floor, “Pete’s not here.”

“Tony, he just—” Pepper rubbed her fingers, over her eyes, “He comes and goes, but recently it’s like he’s gone, most of the time, even when I can see him.”

“I get that,” Rhodey moved over, resting a hand against her back, “It will be all right, as soon as he’s back home, and he’s ready to let it all out, we’re all gonna be here.”

Pepper squeezed Rhodey’s arm, “I wanna help him—”

Happy finished, “But he needs to let us in first?”

“I love him, so much, that it hurts sometimes,” Pepper bowed her head, with a cry, but she kept her voice quiet, “When do I have to draw a line? When do I have to do, what’s best, for Morgan?”

“There’s no right or wrong answer,” Rhodey said calmly, “But right now, he’s lost in his own head, and all he has to do is let us find him, he’s done it before, and he’s knows what’s at stake now—”

Tony understood, where Pepper was coming from, because the path he’d been going down, in the recent months, was not the right one.

“Last night,” Happy spoke up, “He was starting to understand, why he needed to let go, and I think it just scared him.”

“Peter—” Tony turned back, wishing to leave, but the kid, was no longer by his side, “Peter?” He called again, this time, louder, and more panic-induced.

“Over here.”

Tony circled behind the couch, his mouth twitched, into a smile, when he saw something he never thought he would.

Peter was knelt, beside Morgan, watching her, with bug-eyes and a goofy smile.

Morgan laughed, as she moved aside and looked directly up, at Peter.

Tony’s jaw dropped, “She can see you?”

“She can do more than that,” Peter held up his palm, and Tony froze, in awe, as Morgan pressed her hand against his, "Hey..."

Morgan chuckled, as she sat back down, with a soft thud.

“Have you ever wondered why her first word, was my name?” Peter kept his eye on her, “Or why her favorite toys, are the Spider-Man ones?”

“I thought it was the stories.”

“It was,” Peter got up onto his feet, pacing over, “But it was also this.”

“This?”

“Despite what you think, Mr. Stark,” Peter crossed his arms, “I never left.”

Tony’s face fell, “What?”

“Children can see spirits for what they really are,” Peter smiled, “The problem is that, stupid adults, have got it all wrong, and they think these spirits are just imaginary friends.”

Tony sucked in a laugh, “It’s you?” He pressed a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “All this time, her imaginary friend, was _actually_ you?”

“I just told you,” Peter chuckled, “I never left.”

Tony darted his eyes over to Morgan, “I’m glad.”

Peter locked their fingers together, “One more stop.”

Tony scraped his teeth over his lower lip, knowing that he’d never see his kid again, but he'd promised, that he was ready to let go and he had to, at least, act like he was, “Okay.”

They appeared, somewhere Tony had been refusing to go, for almost four years.

_The Monument Ground._

Lines and lines of the fallen carved into stone.

It was dark again.

“We’re back,” Peter said, into the silence, “Christmas Eve night.”

Tony clenched his jaw, tightening his hand around Peter’s, “Not here…”

Peter softened his tone, “Mr. Stark?”

“I know you’re here on orders, kid,” Tony let go, walking ahead, “But I don’t want to be here.”

Peter crossed his arms, “You have to be.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Tony threw out his arms, “I could stop…”

“Don’t—” Peter hurried ahead, grabbing Tony’s arm, a look of panic in his eyes that Tony had never seen before, “Whatever you do you can’t stop or you’ll—” He kept speaking, but no words came out, he screamed, "Damn it!"

Tony cautiously rested a hand on Peter’s shoulder, “Pete, what's wrong?"

“I’m sorry,” Peter stretched up, “They won’t let me tell you.”

“I got that impression,” Tony nudged Peter’s chin up, “I won’t give up.”

“Thank you,” Peter linked his arm, with Tony and lead him through the aisles of the monuments, until he paused, “Here.”

Tony reluctantly turned, his eyes quickly finding Peter and May’s names, written together, “Weird.”

Peter leaned his head on Tony’s shoulder, “Yeah?”

“I thought it’d be scarier,” He sniffled, “It’s just a slab of stone.”

“It is," Peter leaned his weight against Tony, which was strange, considering he was transparent, “I have to go.”

Tony pulled him closer, “No—"

“Listen to me, Mr. Stark…” Peter pulled free, looking him in the eye, “And don’t interrupt.”

Tony nodded.

“What’s coming next is gonna scare you,” He clutched Tony’s arm, “But it will work out.”

“I know the story, kid, but I can’t be that person,” Tony told him, “Somebody who cheers others up and is the embodiment of happiness.” He motioned to the monument, “This is real life.”

“I hope it makes sense when you get there,” Peter smiled, “You’ve gotta find the right words.”

Tony frowned, knowing he’d be left with more questions, than answers, but he had more pressing situations at hand.

This was his last moment with his kid.

“I will,” Tony leaned over, pressing a kiss against Peter’s forehead, with his eyes closed.

“Goodbye, Mr. Stark.”

Once again, Tony was left, standing alone, in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Mentions of Suicide and Homicide, Detailed description of the smell of dead bodies.
> 
> I know that Bruce became Professor Hulk 18 months after the events of Endgame, but ahh I wanted to write Bruce, so I changed that canon!


	3. Life Without Revision Will Silence Our Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is shown the future and decides that time can be rewritten, and he will prevent the events he witnesses from occurring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger Warnings listed in End Note.**

Tony knew what was coming. He was familiar enough, with the story, and since a young age, he’d been terrified of the third act. Instead of allowing fear to creep upon him, he distracted himself, his mind dwelling on what he’d learned from Peter.

Peter was Morgan’s imaginary friend, and he had been real, all along.

A spirit, that stuck by her through thick and thin.

When Tony found out, it was a comforting notion, but his stomach churned, at the thought. He wondered if Peter could only communicate with Morgan, and the rest of the time, he was _alone_. Or perhaps, the best option, he was around for her, when she needed him, and spent the rest of eternity, in a spirit realm, of some kind.

Tony dreaded that Peter had seen all his failures and outbursts since Titan, over the years, what a disappointment he would have been, but maybe, there was good in the notion, too.

_Who are you talking to, Little Miss?_

_Petey!_

_Ah._

_He says he w’oves you!_

_Well, I wove him too._

A chill found him as slow footsteps crunched the thin layer of snow beneath their feet.

“Okay,” Tony breathed slowly, as he turned to meet his maker with clenched fists by his sides.

The Phantom was covered up, in a deep black hooded garment, that seemed to be made up of hundreds of pieces of scrap material.

It approached, slowly and silently, almost as if it were hovering above the ground.

Tony cowered, leaning up against a tree.

The Phantom stopped a few steps away.

“Look, it’s been a long night,” Tony muttered, “I spoke to my dead mum and my dead kid. It’s not right, none of this is right!” He cried out, “Can you please—"

The phantom reached their hands up and pulled back their hood, revealing a familiar face that Tony wasn’t expecting to see, for they were not yet dead.

_Steve Rogers._

“No, _no,_ let me—” Tony balanced a hand against his temple, “Give me a break.”

Steve didn’t look like himself.

His blue eyes were a pale faded grey, and his mouth was tied shut with barbed wire, speckles of dried blood surrounded that.

Tony threw his hands in the air, “I’m not cut out for this bullshit!” He spun, “Does he die, in the future, and it’s my fault? Is that it?” He asked, “Because everything comes back to me, right?”

Steve slowly shook his head.

“Then what, Spooky Rogers?” Tony quizzed, “What the hell is this?” He stepped closer, “Because I’m tired; I’m so fucking tired. _"_

The Phantom couldn’t speak, and from what Tony could remember from the adaptations of the Charles Dickens’ classic, he never would. Over the years, there were many interruptions of why, but Tony assumed it was because the future wasn’t written in stone. The ghost couldn’t speak, the absolute truth like past and present.

Tony also associated the third spirit with death itself.

Tony itched the side of his head, “A metaphor, really?”

This phantom represented the part of Steve, that died, in Tony’s eyes, when he found out the truth behind his parents’ deaths, that Steve had willingly kept to himself. Tony had forgiven Steve, and he was even thinking of ways they could patch things together after the night came to an end, but he couldn’t help the fact, that whenever he thought about death, he remembered that night.

He remembered Steve Rogers’ unshaken expression, when he revealed the secret he’d kept from Tony, for two long years.

“Alright,” Tony clapped his hands together, “Show me what it is that I need to see.”

The phantom moved, placing his spindly hand against Tony’s back, leading him around the corner into the main meeting room of the Headquarters.

Tony was getting too used to randomly appearing in places, that he didn’t even register the faint found of laughter.

He frowned before turning on the spot, “—What?”

The room was lit up, full of life, and chatter.

Around the table, was the team, with a few newbies. Tony, at the head, with Thor and Nebula, on either side of him. Rhodey, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, Clint, and Rocket.

It took a while for Tony to recognize the man, sitting at the opposite end of the table, but in his defense, the last time he checked, the guy was dead, “Scott Lang?”

“Quill said he stole the Power Stone from Morag,” Rocket said, as he strode across the table, avoiding putting his feet in bowls and plates of food.

Bruce lifted his head, “Is that a person?”

“Morag's a planet,” Rocket told them, “Quill was a person.”

“A planet?” Scott mumbled, with a mouth full of food, “Like in outer space?”

“Oh, look. It's like a little puppy, all happy and everything.” Rocket mocked as he jokingly ruffled Scott’s hair, “Do you wanna go to space? You wanna go to space, puppy? I'll get you to space.”

Tony’s frown fell, as warmth spread across his chest, “We figured it out.” He turned, to the phantom, “We worked out how to bring everybody back?”

The spirit nodded.

“That’s brilliant!” Tony exclaimed as he held his hands against the back of his head, “This is all…I ever…”

Tony’s shoulders fell as he realized what he was dealing with.

The future would never be this bright, or the nights preceding would have meant nothing.

“So…” He turned to the phantom, “What goes wrong?”

Steve led him down the corridor, to another day.

Tony saw himself, wearing a red, black and red suit, opposite him was Natasha, in the same get-up.

“These suits are great,” Natasha praised, “You outdid yourself.”

“Was that praise?” Future Tony’s jaw dropped open, “Are you dying?” He asked, jokingly, with a hand rested on his chest.

“Shut up,” Natasha laughed, as she nudged his arm, “Just take the compliment.”

“Thank you,” Future Tony smiled, “Now you be careful out there, from what Nebula’s told me, Vormir isn’t a walk in the park.”

“I’ve got Barton,” Natasha shrugged, “We’ll be fine.”

Tony gravely looked up at the phantom, “Why are you showing me this?” He asked, pulling the collar of his t-shirt, “Why Nat?”

The phantom aggressively pushed Tony’s shoulder, he stumbled into a world, that was enveloped by purple. Underneath his feet was cobblestone, and to his right, was a sheer drop that he didn’t wish to see up close.

Snow fell around him, “This…” He said, his voice carried through the window, “This is Vormir, where Thanos killed Nebula’s sister…”

Footsteps caught Tony’s attention, he turned around.

“Holy shit…”

Natasha and Clint were following the ghostly figure of Johann Schmidt, more commonly known as Red Skull; Steve had told them the story, of his defeat many times, and claimed the tesseract had killed him.

“This night keeps getting longer,” Tony complained as he stepped ahead, “And longer…”

Red Skull stopped moving near the edge of the drop, Natasha leaned dangerously close to the edge, to peer down.

“What you seek lies in front of you...” Schmidt explained, “…As does what you fear.”

Natasha spoke, “The stone is down there.”

“For one of you.” Schmidt warned, “For the other...”

Tony’s stomach dropped to his feet, “Cut to it, I don’t-“

“In order to take the stone, you must lose that which you love,” Schmidt cautioned, “An everlasting exchange - A soul, for a soul.”

“No,” Tony moved, pushing Steve’s spirit away, with both hands, “If anybody is getting fucked over by the future, it is me, not them, do you hear me?”

The Phantom didn’t react.

“I made a promise,” Tony scrunched his nose, “To my kid that I was going to let them in, and help them, I’m not breaking that by losing one of them—”

Clint and Natasha split, pacing around, thinking of a way out.

The spirit touched Tony’s arm, and they reappeared, hovering three hundred meters up, with a clear viewpoint of the drop.

Tony screamed, reaching out to grab the only thing he could, the phantom’s arm, but it was clear they weren't going to fall, “I don’t want to see this!”

Steve nodded his head, towards the cliff, ignoring Tony’s plea.

Tony watched through bleary eyes, wishing he was the one falling.

Selfishness wrapped its ugly hand around his throat when he sighed a mindless breath of relief as he witnessed Clint leap over the threshold. He loved Clint, in some weird, messed up way, but Natasha was different.

Which was why, Tony couldn’t hold back a scream, when Natasha jumped, catching Clint, mid-fall, “No!”

She sent a harness up to the top that was attached to Clint’s side, the latter acted quickly, reaching out to grab Natasha’s wrist.

Clint looked at the wire, he turned to Natasha, as he gasped for air, “Damn you!” He cried, he desperately reached out with his other hand, but he couldn’t reach her, “Wait…”

Natasha looked at the ground beneath them, and from where Tony was, she didn’t seem to tremble, she lifted her head facing Clint, “Let me go.”

“No,” Clint pleaded, “Please, no.”

Natasha spoke, “It's okay.”

“Please-”

Natasha kicked her feet off the wall, allowing her hand to slip out of Clint’s grasp.

Clint screamed, “No!”

Tony snapped his head away, looking to the unfamiliar sky.

 _Rules be damned,_ he refused to watch Natasha fall.

Even when doing the right thing, they lost.

Tony didn’t have time to ask questions as he was pulled somewhere new.

He turned to the phantom, “Wait…”

The spirit extending his arm out, ignoring Tony’s plea.

They were standing among a battle, the sky full of ships and surrounding dust specks, covered the sky.

A tingling traveled up Tony’s spine at the sound of Peter’s familiar voice, “Mr. Stark…”

He snapped his head to the side, “Woah…”

In front of him, he saw himself, suited up, without his helmet, hugging a very-much-alive Peter.

“It works,” Tony’s throat cracked, “We did it.”

Peter rested his head against Tony’s future counterpart's shoulder, “Mr. Stark?”

“Yeah, kid?”

Peter chuckled, “We should probably get back to the fight.”

Future Tony tightened his grasp, “One second.”

“But—"

“Rhodey’s watching our six,” He reassured him, “You’re back.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, “Did you miss me?”

He reached a hand up, pressing it against Peter’s cheek, “So much.”

Tony watched as the moment faded away, and the sky above them darkened, “What—”

The phantom rested a hand against Tony’s back and turned him around.

“I am…”

Tony flinched, when upon a small ridge, a few steps ahead of him, was Thanos, stood high and mighty, with the new gauntlet, “No…”

“Inevitable…” Thanos raised his hand, snapping his fingers together, but nothing happened.

Tony twisted his head, seeing himself, knelt on the ground, holding up the stones as they emerged into his suit.

“Wow,” He swayed, keeping a hand pressed to his stomach as he witnessed himself making the sacrifice play.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew where this was leading.

A flash of white engulfed him, and he was once again, at the lakehouse; standing outside, by the outskirts of the lake.

Peter, dressed up in a black suit with his tie loosened around his neck, walked into view, holding a sleeping Morgan, in his arms. She had her head tucked up against his shoulder and her legs tied around his middle; she too was wearing formal wear, a black dress with a white collar.

Clothes fit for a funeral.

Pepper’s voice quietly tried out, from behind, “How…”

Tony turned around, to see her standing at the lake edge, hand-in-hand with May.

“How did you do it?” Pepper asked, “With Ben?”

“It’s not easy,” May sighed, “But—” She turned her head, to watch Peter and Morgan, “I looked at him, every morning, and remembered what I had left…”

Pepper followed her gaze, with a small smile, “Yeah…”

Overwhelmed, Tony span away but was met by more familiar faces.

“Okay, okay…” Tony rubbed his palms together as he looked to Steve’s phantom, “So, I die, and Nat dies…” Natasha’s loss was the one that bothered Tony, the most, but he knew that she’d be happy with the outcome, “I guess, it’s worth it. Everybody’s home.”

The phantom stared at him, but didn’t make a sound, or even shake his head.

He pulled Tony aside, once more.

Tony cradled the side of his head, not wanting to see anymore, but it seemed his and Natasha’s sacrifice wasn’t the _endgame_.

Tony didn’t recognize where he was, but it seemed to be an underground bunker of some kind; he could see a series of computers and agents, but he quickly recognized Maria Hill, who was busy typing away on a laptop.

There was a caped figure, facing away, but that wasn’t what caught Tony’s attention.

Nick Fury strode past, with Peter, suited up in his Stark suit.

“No…” Tony shook his head, “No, not—”

The one thing Tony had promised himself since meeting Peter was that the kid would never get mixed up with Nick Fury.

“You can lose the mask,” Fury said, “Everyone here has seen you without it.”

Tony clenched his jaw, “Stop…”

“You'd be feigning anonymity and breathing through spandex for no good reason.”

Tony knew Peter would listen to Fury, he’d be too scared not to, “Not the point.”

Peter pulled his mask off, revealing his face. He did look older, but only by a few months.

Fury barked, “Come on.”

“Yeah,” He sounded more mature as well, but his tone was somewhat reluctant.

“Over there, we have Maria Hill.” Fury said, he motioned towards an expressionless man, standing near them, “That is Dimitri.”

Dimitri coked his gun, and Peter turned his face away, fast.

Tony clenched his fists, looking to the phantom, “I know Fury’s dead right now, but I am going to kill him again,” He stormed over, not wanting to lose sight of what was happening.

Nick gestured to the caped figure as he turned, “And this, is Mr. Beck.”

Tony stopped, frozen in his tracks.

Peter stepped ahead, “Mysterio?”

“I know that guy,” Tony folded his arms as the clogs in his head turned, “I fired him.”

He turned away, ignoring the conversations as he thought, long and hard, “Why…” He tapped his foot against the floor, “BARF - Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing.” He clapped his hands together, “He worked on it, but he wanted to use it, as a weapon, and he got—” His stomach sank to his feet, “No, kid—” He looked to Peter, waving an arm out, hoping to be heard, “You gotta get the hell away from him, he’s dangerous!” He screamed, to no prevail, “And he can’t hear me!”

Fury walked over to take a seat, “Mr. Beck is from Earth. Just not yours.”

Tony threw his arms up, “Bullshit.”

Realization crept upon him.

“I’m dead.” He rested his hands on the back of his head, “Fuck, I’m dead, and I can’t stop whatever this is,” His chest rose and fell with infrequent breaths, “I can’t save him.”

Tony moved over, until he was right beside Peter, “I know you can’t hear me, but if any of this gets through, please don’t trust him.”

The phantom moved over, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“No, wait—” Tony pleaded, “I’m not done—”

He was pushed over, appearing on a rooftop.

Tony pushed the phantom aside, “You’ve got to stop doing that!”

The spirit, unfazed, gestured to at a wall, where Peter was sitting, with Beck.

“This isn’t right—” Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, “He’s got nobody to—"

“It's really nice…” Peter hummed, “To have somebody to talk to about, superhero stuff, you know?”

Tony stepped back, resting a hand against his hip.

That ‘ _somebody_ ’ used to be him.

Beck smiled, “Anytime.” He jumped over the ledge, flying beside them, “See you later, kid.”

Peter nodded, “See you.”

Beck flew away into the night sky.

Peter slouched his shoulders, taking a second to breathe.

“Kid—” Tony cried out, but he stopped, when Peter leaped down, out of view, “He’s going to break you.”

They moved again, this time, Peter was sitting at a bar, wearing a black suit that was likely commissioned, by Fury, and sat beside him, was Beck.

Tony flinched, noticing something awfully familiar about the sunglasses perched on Beck’s nose, “EDITH…” 

“Mr. Stark left me a message with those glasses…” Peter spoke slowly, “For the next Tony Stark, I trust you.”

Tony shook his head, “Kid…”

“I'm still not following,” Beck mocked, “How many lemonades have you had?”

“He knew every mistake I ever made, okay?” Peter told him, “He must've known I wasn't ready for something like this.”

Tony stood beside Peter, “You are,” He said gently, “They are yours.”

“Because maybe he didn't trust me to have EDITH,” Peter theorized, “He just trusted me to pick who should.”

“No, that’s not what I meant, kiddo…“ Tears filled Tony’s eyes, there was nothing worse than knowing that he wouldn’t be able to help his kid, “I left instructions, not to give them to you until you turned twenty-one, that must have gone under the radar.” He clenched his fists, “Put them away, for a couple of years, until you’re ready, but whatever you do, don’t—” He looked to Beck, with a glare, “But not this, kiddo. Not him.”

“Right, so the world needs the next Iron Man,” Peter said, throwing out his hands, “And it's not gonna be me. I'm a 16-year-old kid from Queens. It needs to be an adult with some experience and that's good like Tony Stark, like you.”

Tony rested his hands against his face, “He’s not good.”

“No. Peter, come on,” Beck took off THE glasses, “No.”

Peter snatched them and put them on, “EDITH?” He scrambled, “Hi, yeah, I'd like to transfer your control over to Quentin Beck.”

Beck’s eyes widened, “Peter, what are you doing?”

“Wait,” Tony’s mind was spinning, at a hundred miles an hour, “EDITH should recognize Beck, she should know he’s a risk.” He clicked his fingers, pointing to Beck, “But he’s a genius. Beck always was. On par with me, I’d say.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug, “With a team, perhaps, he could erase himself, from every database on Earth. EDITH should have been better, I should have done better…”

Tony rubbed his hand against his temple, watching as Peter happily handed Edith to Beck, and left with the biggest grin on his face.

Then, reality sank in, when a smirk grew on Beck’s face, and the bar around them revealed itself to be nothing, but an illusion.

Tony had seen that coming.

“See?” Beck held up his hands, “That wasn’t too hard.”

Tony glared, “Fuck you.”

The phantom pulled Tony’s arm again, leading him to the space beside a train track.

Tony didn’t want to take in, his new surroundings, “Peter trusted him!” He screamed, spinning to the spirit, “He trusts everyone because that’s who he is!” He nudged the spirit, having nobody else to vent with, “Beck used him and knew he could break him down,” He punched his fist against his chest, “I failed him!”

He bowed his head, looking to the gravel beneath his feet

“The year before Thanos, I had a heart attack, it scared the shit out of everyone,” He wasn’t sure why he was telling the phantom, considering it was likely that it already knew, but he couldn’t stop his rant, “Peter included.” He shrugged, “Kid didn’t leave my side. I knew, he was the future, of all this, so in my recovery, I made EDITH and sent it to Fury.,” He barked a laugh, at his own stupid naivety, “I knew everybody else would think I was insane. I forgot about them, with everything going on.”

He paced, kicking his foot across the ground.

“I’m gonna stop this,” He folded his arms, “Whatever I have to do, this isn’t going to happen.”

The spirit tapped Tony’s back, drawing his attention to the matter at hand.

Fury and his agents were standing beside the tracks.

Peter, dressed head-to-toe in the black suit, was in front of Fury, and without even seeing his face, Tony could tell he was terrified.

Fury raised his voice, “Who else did you tell?”

Tony sighed, “I’m not gonna let Fury anywhere near that kid.”

The future could be rewritten, Tony knew that for sure.

“Just Ned and MJ from my class,” Peter stammered, “Maybe Ned told his girlfriend Betty, but that's it.”

Fury shook his head with a laugh.

Tony raised an eyebrow, “Wait…”

Peter cried, “What?”

“You are so gullible,” Fury exhaled with a chuckle, “You're smart as a whip. Just a...” Beck’s voice came through, “Sucker.” The illusion faded, revealing Beck, in Fury’s place, “And now all your friends have to die.”

Peter stumbled back, dangerously close to the tracks as he held his hands above his head, clearly stuck in an illusion.

“Peter, move!” Tony sprinted, “Peter, it’s not real, none of it is real—”

Beck strode forward, “It's easy to fool people when they're already fooling themselves.”

Tony pleaded, “Peter!”

“But for what it's worth, Peter,” Beck sighed, “I really am sorry.”

With an agonizing knot in his stomach, Tony held out his arm, “Kid—"

A train sped past, striking Peter, at full speed.

Tony couldn’t move, he couldn’t even react, he managed a small, “Peter…”

Tony swayed as he was moved, once more, to a field surrounded by bright flowers. He pressed his hands to his head, twisting around, with a cry.

He noticed one of his jets, parked up, among the flowers.

Tony’s breath hitched noticing Peter, in a vibrant orange football shirt, with a few cuts and bruises on his face, as he limped over, collapsing into Happy’s open arms.

Tony smiled, wiping tears out his eyes with the back of his hand, “Impossible.”

The phantom lead him, to the walkway of London Bridge, “We’re in London now?” The sky was full of smoke, Beck’s broken illusions, and a sense of pure chaos, “This whole thing is giving me whiplash.”

Peter, dressed in a new red and black suit, that had already seen battle, screamed out from the end of the corridor, “Beck!”

Tony jerked, noticing that near his feet, Beck was leaning up against the wall, not looking too hot.

Peter removed his mask and limped over, hissing in pain as he tried to get over as fast as he could.

“Easy there, kiddo…” Tony scrunched his nose, “You were hit by a train—”

“Beck…” Peter loomed over, “You lied to me, and I trusted you.”

The innocence, in Peter’s eyes that Tony once saw, every day, was gone, and Tony knew it would take him a while to trust somebody new again.

“I know. That's the most...” Beck laughed, “…Disappointing part. You're a good person, Peter. Such a weakness.”

Tony snapped, “No, it’s not…”

“Stark was right.” Beck held up the Edith glasses, “You do deserve them—”

Peter reached to the side grabbing something invisible mid-air, a bullet went off, striking the window behind him.

Tony blinked, trying to work out if he was seeing it right, “What?”

An illusion glitched, revealing that Beck was, in fact, standing beside Peter, with his gun raised.

Peter tightened his grip around Beck’s wrist, “You can't trick me anymore.”

Tony’s mouth twitched into a smile, “He won…” His stomach twisted, knowing this wasn’t leading somewhere pretty, “He didn’t, did he?”

The phantom shook his head as he took Tony’s arm, transporting them to a place Tony would never have expected.

_Times Square._

Peter’s nervous chuckle gravitated him.

The kid was standing, in his red and black suit, in front of Michelle, from school. Although, it seemed they were on closer terms than Tony had seen before.

She smiled, “Be safe.”

“See you later,” Peter hopped up, landing on a lamppost above them.

He awkwardly waved down to Michelle, who waved back before pulling her hand back, when passers-by glared.

One of the screens, of Times Square, lit up, “This is breaking news.”

Tony stepped aside, from the spirit, closer to Michelle, “I have a bad feeling about this,” He admitted as the knot in his stomach tightened.

 _“We come to you with revelations about last week's attack in London,”_ A journalist began, “ _An anonymous source provided this video. It shows Quentin Beck, aka Mysterio, moments before his death.”_

Tony held a hand over his eyes, blocking out the sunlight, so he could see the screen, “What?”

_“A warning, you may find this video disturbing.”_

Quentin Beck’s tormented face pop up, in a glitched video, he spoke through a pained cry, “I managed to send the Elemental back through the dimensional rift, but I don't think I'm gonna make it off this bridge alive.” He lied, “Spider-Man attacked me for some reason. He has an army of weaponized drones Stark technology. He's saying he's the only one who's gonna be the new Iron Man, no one else.”

Tony shook his head, an impossible weight laying heavy on his chest.

The footage changed, to Spider-Man’s legs, on the bridge.

Edith’s voice asked, _“Are you sure you want to commence the drone attack? There will be significant casualties.”_

 _“Do it,”_ Peter’s voice cried, _“Execute them all.”_

Tony cupped his hand over his face, he jolted, when Michelle’s breath hitched.

 _Young love_ , Tony thought, _and it was already going wrong._

The broadcast cut back, to the journalist, “This shocking video was released earlier today, on the controversial news website, The Daily Bugle. Net.”

Tony scraped his teeth over his lower lip, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

_“There you have it, folks, conclusive proof that Spider-Man was responsible for the brutal murder of Mysterio, an inter-dimensional warrior who gave his life to protect our planet and who will no doubt go down in history as the greatest superhero of all time.”_

Tony tied an arm around his front, worried he was going to bring up his supper. He didn’t care about his legacy, but Natasha deserved better than to be overtaken by the sorts of Quentin Beck.

 _“But that's not all, folks,”_ JJ exclaimed, _“Here's the real blockbuster. Brace yourselves, you might want to sit down.”_

The screen glitched, back to Beck.

Tony looked up to Peter, noticing how the kid’s legs were trembling.

Beck’s voice cracked, _“Spider-Man's real...”_

Tony snapped his head, to the screen, “No…”

“Spider-Man's real name is...”

Tony edged closer, “Don’t you dare…”

Beck turned, with a scream, “Spider-Man's name is Peter Parker!”

A picture of Peter’s smiling face appeared, for the world to see.

“No—”

The landscape moved, Tony reappeared, inside his house, once again.

Tony placed a hand on his chest, underneath, his heart beat faster than ever before, “If—” He struggled to get the words out, as he spun to the spirit, “If you’re planning to show me, how my death affects everyone I care about, you can stop right here.” He pointed to the floor, “I’ve seen enough. I can fix this now. I just need time—"

The phantom motioned over to the couch.

“No, I’m not…”

Tony was ignored, as the spirit reached up., pushing Tony forward.

Morgan skipped down the stairs, stealing Tony’s breath for a second. She was around eleven, _maybe twelve,_ dressed in an oversized Christmas jumper that obviously once belonged to Peter, as it trailed down to her knees, and was Star Wars themed.

Tony’s jaw dropped, “She’s so grown up.”

Morgan moved over to the couch, where Happy was perched, with a book, “You warm enough, squirt?”

“I think so,” Morgan sat next to him, resting her head against his shoulder, “It doesn’t feel like Christmas.”

Happy wrapped an arm around him, “I guess it doesn’t.”

“Mum won’t even speak about it…”

Happy tugged her closer, putting down his book.

Tony turned, to where Pepper was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, gazing out of the window; Rhodey hovered nearby, but stayed silent, with his chin lowered to his chest.

Something, in the back of Tony’s mind, told him not to venture outside, but his feet were already moving.

As he made his way down the porch steps, he noticed May standing on the lake edge, with Michelle and Ned, on either side of her.

Michelle lifted her hand, messing with what appeared to be, an engagement ring.

May wrapped her arms, around their backs, pulling the pair close.

No words were said, but their silence was enough, for Tony.

Tony breathed, “I won’t let this happen.”

They shifted to a snow-covered graveyard.

Tony looked to the phantom, who was pointing to a particular grave, “I get it, okay?” He hugged his arms around him, handling the cold, “He’s dead, but there are infinite futures, all right? I won’t let this be his.”

The phantom gently nudged him.

“Okay, okay,” Tony winced as he approached the grave, he kneeled, brushing his hand across the snow, to reveal Peter’s name. He noticed, the surrounding ground, was covered in toys and letters, from those who owed Spider-Man, but he was bothered more by what the headstone said, “Twenty-three?”

Tony moved, sitting down, in the snow, with a thud,

“And what, he spent his most recent years, on the run?” He shrugged, “Hiding from people he wanted to protect?” He poked his chest, “I created Beck, he was my demon, he wasn’t someone for Peter to handle.”

Tony scrunched his nose, with a sniffle as he fought against the bitterness of the wind.

“But he did,” Tony cried, “This is what happens when I let people get close. That whole thing with Beck went down –“ He screamed, “ _What_ , a year after I die?”

The spirit nodded.

“A year, and that was bad enough, for you to bring me here!” He pointed out, “You’ve skipped seven years, and I can’t imagine-” He balanced a hand under his chin, “Twenty-three years isn’t a lifetime!” His chin trembled, with a cry, “Okay, he’s a kid! He deserves better.” He slowed his breathing, “They all do.”

He leaned his head against Peter’s headstone, tired of the evening’s proceedings.

“All of them,” He sighed, “Peter said I needed to find the right words, to finish this.” He looked, to the phantom, “Gotta be honest, with you, I still have no idea what this whole night has been about,” He tightened his grasp around his front, “This is real, I’m not Scrooge, you know?”

He brought up his knees, hugging them against his chest. 

“I’m not gonna wake up in the morning and be a cheery guy with no troubles,” He said, with a fake laugh, “I don’t even know if I’m gonna remember this. How could this possibly be a good thing?” He asked, “I die, and then seven years later – the kid dies again.”

_Again._

“I can tell, you had more to show me,” Tony admitted, “The fate of everybody else, but I’m gonna take a wild guess, and say it isn’t good.”

He brushed his bare hand through the snow.

“I have tried and tried to get things right,” He continued, “But it never works.” He lifted his head, “The universe denies happy endings. My family, the people I care about…” He wiped his hand down his face, “It tore me away from them when they needed me most!" 

The phantom’s face softened, color returning to his cheeks.

“I wish that for once…” Tony held up a finger, “Just for the hell of it, all my stupid schemes worked.”

Tony hung his head, as a small blizzard pushed through them.

“Why can’t my family have the life they deserve?” Tony asked, raising his voice to fight against the wind, “They can’t be blamed for my past mistakes, if that what this is. I’ve done terrible things, but hey, I’ve tried to do the right thing.”

Tony never stopped trying to be better, but it seemed like it was done in vain.

“I wanna annoy Happy and Rhodey until we’re bunking at the same old people’s home,” Tony said, with a chuckle, “I want to wake up with Pepper, by my side, for the next thirty years, and be amazed that I found her,” He shook his head, “I wanna see my kids grow up together.”

It dawned on Tony, all at once.

“I wanna live,” He sang, “I think I—” He cradled his hands across his knees as he whispered, “-I deserve better.”

The storm came to a sudden standstill, and the Steve Rogers knockoff vanished.

Tony looked around, “Hello?”

The ground beneath him, crumbled, as the landscape slipped.

“What—” Tony didn’t have time, to question it, as he started falling through a void of white.

He landed, clumsily against the lament flooring of Peter’s apartment, “Ow,” He cried, rolling onto his side, “Nice one,” He sat up, checking nothing was broken as he brushed his hands.

He jumped up, brushing his hands over his face.

The morning light poured through the window to greet him.

His phone that was laying on the floor started to go crazy, with notifications, “Okay, okay, I get it,” He grabbed it, “Friday, mute.”

_Silence._

“Thanks, honey.”

A new, but all too familiar voice called, “Tony?” 

Silence.

"Tony, what are you doing here?" She asked frantically, "You were in space, where's-" 

Tony kept his eyes on the wall ahead of him, uncertain of everything.

She spoke again, “Tony?”

Tony turned, letting go of a slow breath, when he met her gaze, "May?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings:** Visions of Endgame (Nat and Tony's death, funeral, etc) and a non-canon/temporary character death


	4. I Will Hold You Close (With A Thankful Heart)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time in his life, Tony gets everything that he's ever wanted.

May wasn’t a ghost.

She was alive, her cheeks flushed with color and her determined frown painted her confusion.

Tony couldn’t find anything to say; he looked at his phone, checking the date.

_December 25 th, 2022 _

It was the next morning, and May was standing, in her apartment, alive, like no time had passed, since she'd faded away.

Distant clashing, cheering and screaming, echoed from outside, in the corridor.

Tony dashed across the room, pulling the door open.

Residents were charging around, into each other’s apartments, talking over one another, with looks of awe.

May’s elderly neighbor, Rose, who lost her husband of forty years, to Thanos, stepped out of her apartment, laying her hand on Tony’s arm, “Did you have something to do with this, Mr. Stark?”

Tony shook his head, trying to clear it, “To do with what, Mrs. Claxon?”

“My Charlie,” She smiled, tears in her eyes, “He’s back,” She pointed to the open door, “I got up to sort presents, for our grandchildren, and he was there,” She beamed, “He’s alive.”

“Wow,” Tony ran a hand through his hair, darting his eyes around, watching others scream, hugging one another, “I think everyone’s back.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” She asked, with a knowing smile, “This was _you_.”

“I—” Tony stuttered, “I don’t know.”

“Well,” She hugged his arm, “Thank you, darling,” She stepped away, “Now go, I bet there’s somewhere you need to be.”

“There is,” He lit up, “Um, see you.” He hurried back indoors, “May!”

May was standing, watching the television, her jaw glued to the floor.

“Don’t,” He switched it off, “You don’t need to see that yet!”

“2022,” She looked up at him, “How—”

“I can’t explain just yet,” He grasped her hands, “But you’re real.”

Her expression softened, “Of course, I’m real.”

Tony pulled her into a hug, Ah!”

May stepped back, grasping his hands, “What’s going on?”

“Listen,” He squeezed them, “I can’t explain this, all at once, but—” He stuttered, “I’m gonna call Happy, and he’ll tell you everything. I need—I need to go and find Peter.”

She frowned, “Where is he?”

“Space.”

May clenched her jaw, “Tony—"

“Long story, but I’m bringing him home,” He pressed a kiss against her forehead as he raised his phone to his ear, “Friday, call Happy.”

Happy answered, after one ring _, “Boss! Have you—"_

“Yes,” Tony interrupted, “They’re all back, I know!” He paced away, “How fast can you get here? May needs an explanation and I’ve gotta get the kid.”

 _“I can get there in twenty,”_ Happy said, _“You go.”_

“Thanks,” He hung up, “I don’t wanna rush this, May, truly.” He smiled, “I’m so happy to see you—"

“Stop hovering,” She squeezed his hand, “Go and get our kid back.”

Tony charged to the front door, pulling it open.

Natasha, still in her pajamas was outside, with her fist outright, ready to knock, “Woah!”

Tony exclaimed, “Nat!”

“What did you do?!” She exclaimed, “Everybody— _everybody!”_

“They’re back,” Tony nodded, “I know.”

“This was you, wasn’t it?” She asked, panicked, “What the hell, did you do?”

Tony grabbed her hand, “Something awesome,” He ran out, bringing her along with him, “See you later, May!”

Natasha stared at him, with wild eyes, not focusing on her surroundings. Tony pulled her aside, making sure she didn’t run into a pillar.

She shook her head, gathering her bearings, “Thanks.”

Tony pressed the elevator button, “You need to get into contact with Nebula, so I can collect Peter from Titan—” He panted, resting his trembling hand against his chest, “I don’t—”

Natasha tightened her grip around his hand, “I’m not gonna ask again, Tony,” She sucked in a sharp breath, “What did you do?”

“I’m not sure.”

They jumped into Tony’s car and headed off, fast as they could.

People were running around, aimlessly, alive with cheer, and every road, that was yet to be closed off, for means of public safety, was stuck in unmoving traffic.

Context wise, it wasn’t a surprise, but Tony’s growing concern for Peter, who was alone, on a distant planet, with a stoic wizard, and a team of idiots, made it a difficult defeat.

Annoyingly, all of Tony's suits, which were control activated, were in the shop, and out of action. His nanotech, was at home, because, in his defense, he was retired.

Friday cleared Tony, to travel on the closed roads, and they passed through the barriers, with no trouble, but it didn’t stop him driving like a maniac.

“Tony…” Natasha cautioned through gritted teeth, “You’re gonna kill us,” She didn’t raise her voice, but he could register the sheer panic, in her tone, and her death grip, on the chair, was a second indicator.

 _Wow,_ he’d managed to scare a master assassin, and he hadn’t even flinched yet

“Trust me, Nat,” He comforted, taking a sharp left, “I’m an excellent driver.”

Natasha’s voice went up, high, as she flipped her head back, “I’m guessing that stop sign back there was in your way then?”

“Yes.”

She sighed, “Tony—"

He interrupted with a scoff, “It’s not my fault the streets are blocked off.”

She clenched her hand around the grab handle, “Isn’t it?”

He slowed the car as they reached another cut-off point, “What?”

Natasha relaxed, while she could, “Everyone’s back and you had something to do with it.”

“I didn’t do it—” He defended loudly, but then, purposefully hushed his tone, “I just said the right words.”

“Huh?”

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug, “I don’t know.”

Natasha braced herself, as the caution tape was lifted for them, and they were let onto, an empty road, where people had abandoned their cars, most likely to reunite with lost loved ones, “Do you _, at least_ , know what happened?”

Tony pushed down, on the acceleration, “Everyone’s back.”

Natasha straightened her back, holding on tighter, “And?”

“And it’s—"

“If you try and tell me this was some sort of Christmas miracle,” She turned to him, expressionless, “I’m gonna kick you.”

“I won’t say anything,” Tony was met by a wall, of empty cars, and he couldn’t see a way around, “Okay…”

“Tony—”

Tony noticed a gap, but it wasn’t big enough for the car, to make it through, “Breath in—”

Natasha’s yelped, “What?”

Tony reached down, pressing a button on his control panel.

Friday’s soft voice greeted them, “ _Knight Bus Mode Enabled_.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows, “Did your car just make a Harry—” The chairs moved, closer together as the vehicle shrunk, allowing them easy passage, to the next stretch of road.

Once the car, had returned to its usual state, Tony floored it.

Natasha shook her head, with a snicker, “You’re such a nerd.”

“Thanks.”

“You could have made this thing fly.”

“I did, but DUM-E broke a compartment and _now_ –” He stopped, “You know that doesn’t matter right now—"

She hummed, with a nod, “You need to tell me what the hell happened.”

Tony slowed his breathing, “You’re never gonna believe me.”

“At this point, I’ll believe anything,” Natasha reassured him, “And I know when you’re lying.”

“You do?”

“Of course, I do,” She vowed, “Now, I just need to make sure you didn’t do anything dumb, like sell your soul or something.”

Tony’s jaw dropped, “You can do that?”

“Tony—"

“Not the point,” He tried to appear serious, “Okay, so, I was at the apartment, when I heard a noise, it was my dad and my ex-business partner Obadiah Stane, they were like transparent, joined together in chains—"

Natasha waved her hand out, “This sounds—"

Tony carried on, “They left, and I was visited, by three ghosts, one was my mum, the other was Pete, and then-”

“But this is—”

“I know it sounds crazy, but it happened,” He promised, “Mum showed me the past, Peter showed me the present,” He squealed, “ _Oh,_ and a Creepy Steve Rogers knockoff showed me a potential future that, I think we’re gonna skip.”

Even Tony didn’t believe it.

Natasha stared at him, “Uh…”

“And if you don’t believe me, the reason you were on the doorstep when I opened the door is that you were coming around to talk some sense into me,” He told her, “You don’t want me to lose myself, and leave my family behind—"

“Bozhe moi—"

Tony clenched his fists, around the steering wheel, “I know—"

Natasha spoke, honestly, “I believe you.”

He snapped his head to her, “Just like that?”

“I see it, in your face,” Her mouth twitched, into an uncertain smile, “But who, _what_ —How?”

“Apparently a ‘ _Realm_ ’ wanted to send me a message,” He turned his attention to the road, “And give me a chance to get this right—"

“The future you saw—"

“Not good,” He sniffed, memories of her falling, relaying in his head, “Yeah, we managed to everyone back, but—"

She softened her tone, “But what?”

Tears threatened to form, “You and me…”

“You—"

He cleared his throat, “We died.”

“Oh—"

Tony scarped his teeth across his lower lip, “I got a front-row seat.”

She reached over, resting her hand, on his arm, “That sucks.”

“And the kid got seven years, when he got back,” He scrunched his nose, “Before he was killed again.”

Natasha deflated in her chair, “Fuck.”

Tony shook his head, determined, “Not this time.”

“This still makes no sense,” She said gently, “A realm contacted you, and what, just brought everyone back? Tony, we don’t get wins, like this that easily.”

“Apparently, I passed some sort of test with—"

“The right words?”

“Hm.”

She leaned forward, “What did you say?”

He thought but to no prevail, “No clue.”

“Great.”

Tony turned, into the entranceway for the Headquarters as the gates were already open.

Agents, who disappeared, five years before, were dotted around, but Tony couldn’t see to them, straight away.

Tony leaned his head up, “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Stood outside the building, were Steve, Bruce, and Rhodey, utterly clueless, each on their phone.

Wong was off to the side, opening portals, and bringing people through, which made sense considering that Bruce was there.

Steve noticed them first, raising his hand, in a wave.

Natasha unclipped her belt, “I don’t think Bruce has seen the sunlight in years.”

Tony agreed, “I don’t think he has either.”

Natasha’s breath caught, “Oh—”

“Nat?”

She pointed over to the portal that Wong was opening, “That’s Wakanda, which means—”

“That—"

Natasha didn’t wait to hear him out, before clambering out of the car and speeding over, getting there, just as a startled wide-eyed Wanda stepped through.

“Wanda!” Natasha threw her arms around Wanda, holding onto her, as tight as she could.

Steve’s eyes lit up, “Buck!” He sprinted, “Sam!”

Bucky and Sam jumped through, bleary-eyed as if all they’d woken up from, was a bad hangover.

Neither of them had time to brace themselves, before Steve engulfed them, in a hug.

Tony jumped out of the car, watching on, in awe.

Rhodey headed straight for him, “Hey, Tones!”

“Honeybear—"

Rhodey looked at him, for an answer, “What’s going on?”

“I’ll explain later,” He squeezed his arm, “Right now, I need to get to Titan as quickly as possible, so I can bring my kid home in time for dinner.”

Rhodey’s startled expression morphed into a grin, “You don’t need to. “

Tony exclaimed, “Of course, I need to, he’s—"

Rhodey cut him off, “Tones…”

Tony frowned, thrown, “What?”

“Jesus…” He reached out, grabbing Tony’s arm, turning him around, “Look.”

A portal was open, directly behind them, and it led to the orange planes, of Titan.

Strange floated, near the entranceway, but didn’t make eye contact, with Tony.

Peter swung out, landing on the snowy grass, that surrounded the Headquarters; he retracted his mask, revealing his familiar grin, and rosy-red cheeks.

He was alive.

Tony wasn’t sure how long he stood, deadly still, taking in, all that he could see.

Peter's chest was moving, up and down, with each breath.

Peter was no longer a spirit, and Tony doubted that the kid even remembered that time.

Peter met his gaze, “Mr. Stark…”

Tony muttered, “Kid…”

Rhodey pushed Tony’s shoulder, easing him closer.

Tony broke out into a run, “Peter!”

Peter leaped, mid-air, but Tony caught his weight, with strong arms.

Tony rested his chin, on Peter’s shoulder, “Wow.”

Strange shot him, a perplexed expression, from afar, because this wasn’t the future, that he’d foreseen.

Peter mumbled, “Mr. Stark?”

“Welcome home, kiddo,” Tony closed his eyes, rocking, side to side, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.”

Peter didn’t even argue, “Okay.”

Tony didn’t let go, even as Nebula and Rocket’s ship landed.

Wanda’s surprised yelp, silenced the crowd and broke the hug.

Tony stepped back, grabbing Peter’s hand, as he would with Morgan, at a busy roadside.

Everybody’s eyes were on the portal leading to Wakanda, as Vision stepped through.

Tony’s jaw fell to the ground, “No way…”

Vision appeared the same, despite the missing mind stone.

Natasha stepped over, to Tony, her eyebrows knitted in worry, “What did _you_ do?”

Tony’s throat seized up, “I—"

Wanda jumped, into Vision’s open arms, with a cry as she tucked her forehead against his shoulder.

Whatever Tony did, didn’t only save those who died, at the hands of Thanos and the infinity stones.

He tightened his grip around Peter’s hand, lowering his chin, to his chest.

Peter moved, “Mr. Stark?”

Tony raked his fingers through his hair, as he attempted to process it all; victories like this, they had to come at a price, _right?_ How many had been saved, how far, did this _‘win’_ go?

Rhodey gripped Tony’s shoulder, tight, dragging him out his head, into the world, “Tones…”

Tony jumped up, “Nebula!” He charged ahead, keeping his hand in Peter’s, who yelped as he was dragged along, “Nebs…”

Nebula was standing aside, with Mantis, “Stark?” She turned, her mouth said into a determined line, as she crossed her arms.

Tony waved to Strange, who noticed him straight away, “Strange, get over here!”

Strange glided over, “Yes?”

Tony took a deep breath, “Can you open a portal to a place you’ve never been?”

Strange rested a hand, under his chin, “I can try.”

Tony turned his head, “Nebula, where did Thanos take your sister?” A shudder traveled up his spine, remembering Natasha’s final moments, in the reality, he’d seen, “The purple cold planet?”

“Vormir,” Nebula frowned, “It’s a barren planet at the very center of celestial existence.”

Strange swung his hand, “That narrows it down,” He opened a portal, that led, directly to Vormir.

Tony flinched, pulling Peter back, as he turned, searching the tremendous crowd for Natasha’s familiar face.

She was talking, with Wanda and Vision – completely and undeniably alive.

Tony jerked his head, in the direction of the open portal.

A figure stepped into view, trying to defend themselves from the blizzard that engulfed the planet.

It was Gamora, exactly as Nebula described her; green, with curly black hair, with dark pink strands throughout. She was hugging her arms around her chest, too distracted, by the bitterness to notice the open portal.

Nebula’s mouth flew open, a moment of vulnerability, “Gamora?!”

Gamora spun around, with a smile, “Nebula?”

“Where—“ Gamora hurried through, “Where are—”

Nebula grabbed her sister’s low-hanging wrist, pulling her into the tightest grip.

“Oh—” Gamora was silenced, perplexed by the action, but she folded her arms around Nebula, as she rested her head on her shoulder.

Tony huffed a laugh, “Okay…”

Strange shot him a look, with narrowed eyes, as he strode over, pulling his obnoxious cloak along with him.

Quill hurried over, “Gamora?!”

Tony pulled on Peter’s hand, “Come along, kiddo.”

“What—” Peter lifted his head, tears in his eyes, “I thought Thanos killed her—”

Tony sighed, “He did.”

“But—” Peter sighed, “Not like us, he actually—”

“I don’t know what’s going on—” Tony admitted, “But I hope it’s good.”

“She’s alive,” Peter motioned back, “And so is Vision, what happened, to him?”

“Thanos murdered him, but tearing out the soul stone,” Tony’s eyes found Vision, who smiled at him, with a wave, “But he’s—”

“Alive,” Peter stopped, dead in his tracks, looking to his left, “Wow—”

Tony turned, “What?”

Peter grinned, almost jumping, with joy, “Thor—"

Wong had opened, another portal, leading directly to New Asgard, Thor was already through, with Valkyrie, talking to Steve.

A thunderous crack, from the sky, silenced them all.

Peter pulled his hand out of Tony’s grasp, so he could block his ears, “What—”

“I don’t—” Tony wrapped an arm around Peter’s back, “Jesus—”

Peter cringed, looking to the sky.

 _Poor kid,_ he was more suspectable to sound, than most.

The sound stopped, and a new portal opened, a few meters above the ground, but instead of a gold flare around it, it was flickering green.

Whoever was opening it, was doing so, from the other side.

Tony looked to Strange, “Who is—”

Loki strode through, but awkwardly dug his heels into the grass, when he saw them all, “Oh, crap.”

Rhodey flung his head back, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Tony had heard Thor’s theory, that his homicidal younger brother, had been under Thanos’ influence during the attack on New York, which meant he, most likely, wasn’t in charge of the majority of his actions, despite that, he was still a maniac.

Loki held up his hands, “I come in peace?” He motioned his head back, as the fallen kin, of Asgard, walked through.

“Loki?” Thor hurried over, stopping, in front of his brother.

They awkwardly stared at one another.

Thor dragged the startled Loki, into his killer grip.

Tony might have hated the guy, but it was kind of cute.

Thor exclaimed, “Heimdall!” As he dove into the crowd, of Asgardians.

Tony squeaked, “I’m so lost…”

Natasha paced over, pointing to Loki, “Should I arrest him?”

Tony shook his hand dismissively, “I think Thor’s got him.”

Peter relaxed his hands, by his side, before moving over, to lean his head on Tony’s arm.

Tony squeezed his shoulder, as he took a moment to breathe, wondering what words he had said, that had made all of this possible.

Loki was back. That either meant, the ‘ _realm_ ’ decreed that he was worthy of Tony’s victory, or that, everybody who died during the battle, was coming back.

_Thanos._

Tony shook that off, not letting his mind, go there, because his mother’s spirit, and Peter’s, would never have allowed him, to proceed, with a quest, that would resurrect Thanos.

Rhodey yanked Tony’s arm, pulling him away from Peter, “What did you do?”

Others joined in, asking the same.

“I’ll tell you!” Tony bellowed, “But I’m not entirely sure what happened….” His eyes landed, on Peter, who was swaying, back and forth, on his feet.

“What?” Peter squeaked, “Why would I know?” He asked, “Strange told me that I’ve been dead for like four years.”

Tony nodded, “True.”

Strange disappeared through a portal before Tony could ask, for his opinion.

Happy’s car swung around the corner, passing over to the grass, without care; he was able to maneuver around people, with skill.

Tony squeezed Peter’s shoulder and turned him around, “Look who it is, kiddo.”

May clambered out of the passenger side, “Peter!”

Peter’s face lit up, “May—” He stammered as he pulled away from Tony’s side, fast on his feet, “May!”

For Peter and May, it had been a few hours since they’d last seen one another, but in that time, Peter had been lost, in space, while May was left behind, waiting, so Tony knew, it would have felt like infinity for them.

May threw her arms around her nephew, “My boy—” She folded her arms around him, as she gazed over his shoulder to see Tony, she mouthed, ‘ _Thank you_.’

He nodded as he turned to greet Happy, “Hey—”

Happy pointed back, “Pepper’s on her way with Morgan.”

Tony smiled, “Good.”

Rhodey stepped over, wearing the fondest grin that Tony had ever seen, “Wow.”

Tony nudged him, “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Rhodey motioned his head to Peter and May, “Just, this is gonna beat any Christmas present, out there.”

Tony bopped his head, “It really is.”

Strange reappeared, as fast as he’d left, but with Scott Lang, by his side, “I wanted to make sure this one didn’t get left behind.”

Scott stepped away from him, with a frown, “I still have—”

A woman, dressed in a similar suit to Scott, broke away from the crowd, “Scott…”

Scott’s eyes lit up, and seemingly, nothing else mattered anymore, “Hope…”

She skipped over, kissing him, before pulling him into a hug, “Hey.”

A line appeared between Rhodey’s brows as he crossed his arms, “He’s in for the shock of a lifetime.”

Happy raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Well, his daughter survived,” Rhodey said, “So she’s-“

Tony finished, “Four years older.”

“Hmm…” Rhodey stepped forward, “I’ll go and talk to him,” He jogged over, “Hey, Human-Man!”

Peter paced over, arm-in-arm, with May, he called out, “Tony?”

Tony laughed, spinning around, “You calling me _‘Tony’_ now?”

Peter chuckled, “I’m trying it.”

“Cool.”

“Did…” Peter stuttered, “Did Ned---”

“He was gone too,” Tony confirmed, “And that girl, you like, Michelle…”

Peter’s cheeks flushed with color, “I don’t—"

“Ha,” Tony barked a laugh, “Kid, I’ve seen the future…”

May scrunched up her face, “What?”

Tony waved his hand dismissively, “I’ll explain later.”

Strange called out, “Stark, gather the troops, we’ve got a lot to discuss!”

Tony caught Natasha’s attention, with a wave, “Hey, Nat!”

“Got it,” She whistled, fingers in mouth, which silenced everyone, “Meeting in hanger two, for those with _Level Five_ clearance or you’re—well, I guess, a superhero, of some sorts—” She shook her head, discouraged by the number of people that were around, “Let’s move it, people.”

People started piling inside, as quickly as possible, in an unorderly fashion.

Happy turned around to face Tony, “I’ll wait out here, for the boss—” He smirked, “And Pepper.” 

Tony patted his shoulder, with a laugh, “Thank you.”

“Lord Happy…” Thor walked over, with Loki, “Valkyrie and my brother are going to redirect my people to New Asgard, could you be of assistance?” 

Happy narrowed his eyes at Loki, alarm bells going off, in his head, “…Sure.”

Tony moved towards the entrance, knowing that Valkyrie or Happy would knock Loki’s kneecaps out if he were to try anything.

“So…” May linked her spare arm, with Tony, “Who’s this boss that Happy mentioned?”

Tony bowed his head, “Happy didn’t tell you.”

She frowned, “No…”

“Her name’s Morgan,” Tony told them, “And she’s my daughter….”

Peter’s jaw hit the floor, “No way!”

Tony thought, _you were her imaginary friend, but you were real._

“Really!?” May exclaimed, “How old is she, when—"

Tony let out a slow breath, “She turned three a few months ago.”

Peter's eyes widened, “Wow!”

May’s mouth curved into a smile, “We can’t wait to meet her.”

“She’s the best!” Natasha skipped over, taking Tony’s arm, she swung her head forward, “Nice to meet you both, by the way!”

Peter blushed, “Hi.”

May smiled, “Hey.”

Tony looked to Natasha, “Anything on Barton?”

“Yeah, he’s gone straight home.”

“Good.”

* * *

The hanger filled, with familiar and unfamiliar faces, some were standing, but others had decided to sit on the floor, with their legs crossed, like kids in kindergarten.

Tony was standing, at the top of the steps, with Peter, May, Rhodey, and Natasha.

“I—” Tony pulled the collar of his shirt, “This is—”

“Come on, Tony…” Natasha laughed, “We’ve made speeches before.”

“I was there, for the whole, ‘ _I am Iron Man_ ,’ shit that you pulled,” Rhodey said through gritted teeth, “And you weren’t scared then.”

“I was, but I let my ego lead the way, back then,” Tony widened his eyes, “I’m more of a stay-at-home dad now.”

Natasha smiled mischievously, “Are you worried that everybody is gonna think you’re crazy?”

Tony muttered, “I wasn’t until you said that.”

She giggled as she moved over to May, who high-fived her.

 _Wow_ , these two befriended one another quickly, but Tony expected no less.

“Tony!” Steve shouted, “The floor’s yours, Stark.”

“Nobody in their right mind,” Tony started, “—Is gonna believe me.”

Natasha spoke, “I did.”

Tony mocked, “I said right mind, Nat.”

She narrowed her eyes, muttering something rude to May, who struggled to hide a laugh.

Tony perched on the wall, that overlooked the steps, “Do you know?” He asked, pointing to Strange.

Strange was standing alone, arms crossed, “I do.”

“Alright,” Tony held a hand, under his chin, “Who in here is familiar with Charles Dickens’ _A Christmas Carol?”_

A series of uncertain hands went up, into the air, Tony counted.

“About half the room,” That complicated things, “For those who have no idea what I’m talking about, I was visited by three spirits, the ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future. The first ghost was my mother—And the second—”

Strange finished, “Was Peter.”

Rhodey squeaked in disbelief, while May and Natasha stared on, with wide eyes.

The color drained from Peter’s cheeks, “Was me?”

Tony nodded.

Peter nervously fumbled, with his hands, “I don’t remember that.”

“You won’t,” Strange told him, “You’re mortal now—”

Peter sighed, “Okay…”

“You were Morgan’s imaginary friend,” Tony told him, “She’s gonna know you, a bit more than you know her.”

Peter crossed his arms, “Wow.”

Rhodey spoke up, intrigued, “What about the third ghost?”

Tony lied, “I never saw its face.”

“If all of this happened,” Rocket piped up, “How did we get here?”

“Peter told me I needed to say the right words,” Tony explained, “And I must have, not sure what they were.”

Strange struggled to hide a fond grin, behind his hand.

Tony rolled his eyes, “I’m guessing you know though.”

“Stop grinning and spill,” Rhodey barked.

“This ghost story was constructed by the infinity stones,” Strange stated, “Despite their physical form being no more, they are collectively communicating with one another. They believed, that Thanos’ actions were one-sided, and they are all for democracy. So, they communicated with one another, and over time, scanning the universe, for Thanos’ equal. The other side of a metaphorical coin. It took them a while, but eventually, they found you—"

Tony shook his head, “Oh, neat.”

Strange carried on, “The stones showed you, your past, present, and future, to show you how far you’d come, but they aren’t human, they struggled working out what you needed to do, in order to win. So, they searched for your weakness and found, if you could break free from that, then they’d award you, with your heart’s greatest desire.”

Rhodey raised his eyebrows, “Tony once told me that his greatest desire was to live on a planet made out of candy floss.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “I told you that, in confidence.”

“Ha.”

May spoke up, “What did he have to say, to do all this?”

Strange finished, “All he had to do, was admit, that he deserves a happy life.”

Rhodey hung his head, shaking it.

“You saved everybody by being Thanos’ opposite,” Strange said, “But also, his equal”

“Because you got what you wanted,” Nebula filled in, “That’s all our father, ever fought for.”

“But you have morals,” Gamora said, “Something he never did.”

"But Vision and Loki," Tony listed, turning to Strange, "They're back, too?"

"Yes," Strange nodded, "You saved everybody who died, in that battle."

Tony went dizzy, for a moment, laying a hand on Peter's back.

The door clicked open, revealing Pepper and Morgan, “Hey!”

Morgan charged over, “Petey!”

“Oh—"

She locked her arms around Peter’s leg, “Hi!”

With caution, Peter scooped her up, in his arms, “Hello—”

Pepper hugged May, turning to Tony, “What did you do?”

May laughed, “You wouldn’t believe it, in a million years.”

Tony walked, wrapping an army behind Peter’s back; he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against Morgan’s cheek, and then another, against Peter’s.

Peter smiled, “You did it, Mr. Stark.”

“Yeah, guess I did.”

In the end, Tony listened to his heart, and overcame his greatest battle of all; he learned, to love himself, flaws and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everybody! This wasn't as angsty as some of my previous works, but I hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> I will be back tomorrow, for the first part of 'Some Things Never Change' the sequel, to my previous work 'Come, My Darling, Homeward Bound.'


End file.
